Dreaming Aloud
by LonegunGirl
Summary: AU/MSR. Mulder must come to terms with the prospect that his life as Special Agent Fox Mulder has been nothing more than a dream.
1. Default Chapter

Dreaming Aloud pt1  
  
by Jane Goodwin  
  
  
Disclaimer: The X-Files, and any characters therefrom mentioned in   
this story, remain the property of Chris Carter, 1013 productions, and   
20th Century Fox. No infringement on copyright intended.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Classification: AU, angst, MSR  
  
Summary: Mulder must come to terms with the prospect that his   
whole life at the FBI has been nothing more than a dream.   
  
  
Author's note: I actually wrote this a couple of years back, but never   
posted it here. I suddenly thought today that I just might. It's set   
somewhere around season 5, I guess. Certainly before the movie  
and Mulder and Scully's loss of the X-Files in season 6.  
  
  
Feedback: Please review!! I'd *love* to hear what you have to say.   
Or you can email me at LonegunGirl@subspacemail.com. Visit my   
website at http://www.geocities.com/lonegungirl_1013/  
  
  
"Another turning point,   
A fork stuck in the road.  
Time grabs you by the wrist,   
Directs you where to go.  
So make the best of this test,  
And don't ask why.  
It's not a question,  
but a lesson learned in time.  
  
It's something unpredictable,  
but in the end is right.  
I hope you had the time of your life."  
  
- GreenDay "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)"  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Two torch beams darted wildly about, reflecting off the cool, shinny   
surfaces of metal walls. Together, Agents Mulder and Scully walked   
slowly, cautiously, down a long corridor which, through the thick   
darkness, seemed to continue on without end. To either side of them   
were thousands upon thousands of metal draws, each marked with a   
different name. Each was the name of an abductee, a test subject.   
Each contained files classified beyond the highest levels of   
government, almost beyond government itself. Lots and lots of files.   
Both agents knew that although they had been in many facilities much   
like this before, none had been quite as special as this one. For, if   
what their informant had told them was true, this filing system was the   
key to realising their quest. If they could only play this right, they   
would finally possess the irrefutable evidence they had been so   
boldly seeking for six long years. Evidence of a project, a conspiracy,   
and of a lie so far reaching that even the highest levels of power in the   
country scarcely knew the scope and grandeur of the ultimate truth.   
  
As they continued walking, it became clear that this particular   
passage way, of which there were more, continued on for miles.   
They'd been walking for what seemed like an eternity, and Scully was   
beginning to slow down, dropping back slightly behind Mulder. But   
nothing deterred Mulder. Something on one of the endless metal   
draws caught his eye. He stopped and stared.   
  
"Hey Scully, come look at this!" he yelled back to his partner, as he   
reached out for the draw, removing dust from the label with one clean   
swipe of his hand. He smiled boyishly to himself, as though he'd   
been on a treasure hunt and just found the prize. There was no   
answer.  
  
"Scully?" he called again, diverting his eyes to the dark corridor he'd   
just come down. Still no response. Mulder's heart began beating   
faster and faster, and a wave of panic swept over him like a blanket.   
"Scully?!" he yelled again, frantic. He ran back down the corridor with   
his torch beam darting in front of him. He yanked his gun from his   
holster and trained it in front of him, still running as he did so. What if   
something had happened to her? What if *they* had taken her? He   
pushed that thought from his mind, it only made the panic worse. The   
torch, it's beam of light his only comfort, slipped from his fingers,   
crashing to the cold floor, and the light it had once provided became   
one with it's dark surroundings.  
  
"Damn it!" Mulder exclaimed anxiously. In the thick blackness he   
groped around for the reassuring bulk of plastic. As he searched,   
there was a blinding flash of light from down the corridor, as though a   
silent explosion had gone off. Mulder squinted at the focal point, but   
was unable to clearly make out where the light was emanating from.   
The strange thing was that it seemed to be all around him. Slowly, the   
light began to fade, and Mulder could finally open his eyes   
completely. What he saw was unbelievable. His eyes darted   
between soft, white walls, and shinny, metal equipment. A harsh,   
steady beep from somewhere in the distance met his ears. The room   
was unfamiliar to him. Then Mulder noticed where he was lying, in a   
bed with neat, white sheets. His nose turned up at a sickening smell   
of disinfectant which only came with a sterile environment. And   
suddenly, he knew where he was. He was no longer in the research   
complex, but a hospital room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mulder lay there silently for a long while, his mind whirling, until his   
thoughts finally settled on Scully. He bolted upright in his bed, only to   
be met by a wave of dizziness and nausea which forced him back   
down. 'What the hell...' he thought to himself, but lay back weakly. It   
was then that he noticed a nurse in the far corner of his room, and she   
noticed him. It was clear from the surprised expression on her face   
that she hadn't been expecting him to wake up. Somehow the   
woman's face was familiar...  
  
She smiled at him. "Mr Mulder! Oh my god, I wasn't expecting..."  
  
The voice gave her away. Mulder squinted at her.  
  
"Marita?" he asked slowly.  
  
She was caught off guard. "Well...uh... yes. Yes, Marita Covarubias.   
Bu-But how do you know who I am?" Somehow, there was something   
different about her. She certainly wasn't the normal Marita   
Covarubias he knew. She seemed too happy and friendly. And her   
voice, although it was unmistakably her's, sounded... lighter. And she   
*was* wearing a nurse's uniform. Something didn't add up...  
  
Mulder pushed the unsure thoughts from his mind. All he needed to   
know now was that she was a familiar face, and she might just be able   
to tell him what was going on. "Well why wouldn't I know your name?"  
  
"It's just... I mean... We've never actually met. I've watched over you   
for a long time, but I don't see how... Wow, this is amazing!"  
  
"Marita... what do you mean we've never met?!"   
  
Her smile faded slightly as she stared directly into his eyes. "L-Let me   
go get Doctor Sampson." She turned and hurried excitedly out of the   
room, turning back around briefly as she reached the doorway. "May I   
just say, Mr Mulder... welcome back." She smiled warmly again, then   
turned and exited the room.  
  
Mulder was left alone, and his thoughts straight away returned to   
Scully. Where was she? What had happened to her? The same   
wave of panic he had experienced back in the research facility swept   
over him.  
  
Moments later, Marita returned with a man, presumably the Doctor   
Sampson she had spoken of. This time, Mulder's memory didn't need   
any jogging. He stared at the doctor, open mouthed, not knowing   
what to say.   
  
"Dad?" Mulder asked in disbelief.  
  
Bill and Marita exchanged a glance.  
  
"Mr Mulder, my name is Doctor Sampson. Th-this is unbelievable, we   
never expected... Do you know where you are?"  
  
Mulder laughed slightly. "Well, presumably I'm in a hospital. I don't   
know why I'm here though. But... dad it's me, Fox."  
  
Bill sat down softly on the side of Mulder's bed. "Mr Mulder," he asked   
gently, "can you tell me your name?"  
  
Mulder blinked in disbelief. "What kind of a question is that?! I'm Fox   
Mulder, *Special Agent* Fox Mulder with the FBI."  
  
Silence engulfed the room, and Bill and Marita shared another   
glance.  
  
"Look, I have ID in my jacket," Mulder continued.  
  
"Mr Mulder... my name is Doctor Bill Sampson. Do you remember   
what happened?"  
  
"Look, now you're beginning to scare me. Your name is Bill Mulder,   
my father. And yes, of course I remember. I was...I was, I mean, I was   
in a research complex in Arizona. Scully and I were..." Suddenly, the   
panicked thoughts of his partner's fate returned.  
  
"Mr Mulder, try to rest. You've been through a lot."  
  
"Where's Scully?!" Mulder demanded.  
  
"Your wife should be here shortly, she was called as soon as you   
regained consciousness."   
  
"Wife?" Mulder chuckled slightly. "Scully isn't my wife, she's my   
partner at the FBI."  
  
"Mr Mulder, please try to rest," Marita soothed.  
  
"No, I'm not doing anything until someone tells me what the hell is   
going on here!"  
  
"Mr Mulder, you were in an accident close to a year ago. Your car   
collided with a tanker, and you were left in a critical condition. We   
were able to stabilise you, but you were left in a coma. To tell you the   
truth, we never thought you would wake up."  
  
Bill turned to Marita. "Miss Covarubias, I have to go, but I'd like for you   
to stay here with Fox until his wife arrives." He smiled first at her and   
then at Fox.   
  
Mulder placed a restricting hand on Bill's arm. "I wasn't in any car   
accident, I don't remember being in any accident, and for the last time   
Scully is NOT my wife!"  
  
"I believe you're experiencing a mild form of amnesia, Mr Mulder. It's   
something common in cases like yours. It should be only temporary,   
and perhaps seeing your wife will help you along."   
  
"I haven't got amnesia! I remember perfectly who I am and what I was   
doing, there are NO gaps in my memory."  
  
"I don't have all the answers yet Mr Mulder, but let me assure you that   
you are Fox Mulder, and Dana Scully is your wife." He smiled again,   
a look that was somehow foreign to Bill's face in Mulder's memory.   
He scarcely ever smiled. He patted Mulder's hand gently, and with   
that he turned and left the room, leaving Marita to sit beside Mulder's   
bed. Mulder lay back more confused and frustrated than ever, and his   
mind whirling. 'Maybe this is just a nightmare,' he thought to himself.   
If only it had been that simple.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He must have drifted asleep again, for the next thing Mulder knew he   
was looking up into the face of Dana Scully. Instantly, his face   
crinkled into a smile.   
  
"Scully! Oh, thank god you're alright! Perhaps you can talk some   
sense into these people, they seem to have the strangest idea that I'm   
not really me." He chuckled nervously. "It's been really weird. And   
Marita doesn't seem to know who I am, and the doctor who's looking   
over me looks *exactly* like my father, even though I know that's   
impossible because he's, ya know, dead. So then I got to thinking   
that maybe he *isn't* himself. I mean, Scully, we've seen it so many   
times before. Men who can assume the identity of anyone, and who   
can only be killed by the direct prick to the back of the neck. I don't   
know anything anymore, Scully, you're the only person I can trust right   
now, and you don't know what a relief it is to see you here." He   
paused to give Scully a chance to speak, realising she hadn't said   
anything yet. She had drooped her head and was staring at the   
ground.   
  
"Scully?" he prompted, reaching out a hand for the side of her face   
and gently touching her hair. Slowly, she looked up at him. A tear   
rolled down her cheek as she stared into his bright, hazel eyes.  
  
"Fox, I... I..." she stammered, another tear, then another, left her eyes.   
"Oh god." She looked back down again and tried feebly to wipe the   
tears from her cheeks with her hands.   
  
"Hey," Mulder soothed, moving his hand to stroke her cheek. "Scully,   
what's wrong?"  
  
"It's just... I mean... Fox, I-I never thought you'd, I mean... I missed you   
so much." She buried her face deep in her hands.  
  
Mulder half laughed. "You missed me? We've only been apart a   
couple of days at the most."  
  
There was a long silence between them. Finally, Scully spoke. "Fox...   
what the doctor told you was true. You were in a car accident nearly a   
year ago. Well, 11 months and 12 days to be precise. I-I've kept   
count." She finished with a small, brave smile that Mulder could see   
through straight away. You don't work so closely with someone for 6   
years without learning a thing or two about them. Scully continued,   
"Being a medical doctor myself, I can tell you that temporary amnesia   
is common with cases like yours, and that your memory should return   
completely in time."  
  
"But Scully, I don't have amnesia! I remember everything. How we   
were pointed towards that place in Arizona by Krycek, and what we   
found there! Scully, what we found could be the answers to   
everything we've ever dreamed. The vital clue in realising our quest   
of the past 6 years. Only, I have no idea what happened. I was there   
and then... suddenly I was here." Mulder frowned, unable to even   
guess at what had happened.  
  
"Fox... I don't share your memories of any of those events. I don't   
quite understand this myself, but all I can tell you is that you *have*   
been in a coma this past year."  
  
Suddenly, Mulder felt completely alone. Even *Scully* seemed to be   
against him. The only person he'd ever trusted, his only true   
companion... no. That was impossible. There must be some other   
explanation. He considered briefly that maybe she was in fact telling   
the truth, but the thought itself was unfathomable. There had to be   
another explanation. Perhaps it really wasn't Scully sitting beside   
him. What if she was merely an illusion? A sheep in wolf's clothing,   
maybe? A shape-shifting colonist, disguised as his partner to obtain   
information from him. It seemed to be the only possible explanation,   
at least in Mulder's mind. His eyes narrowed as he stared at whoever   
it was he was in fact talking to.  
  
"You're not really Scully. Who are you?"  
  
"Fox... I don't pretend to be able to explain any of this to you. All I can   
tell you is that I'm here for you." She paused, considering what she'd   
just said. "Hell, what am I saying? I know you don't even remember   
me right now. Just..." Tears once again began to swell up in her eyes.   
"I'm gonna go now Fox. I-I'll be back later." She managed a weak   
smile at Mulder, before getting up. Just as she was about to leave,   
something on Mulder's bedside table caught her eye. She stopped   
for a moment and reached out to set straight a rather sloppy   
arrangement of fresh flowers. Mulder eyed her cautiously.  
  
"Oww, damn it!" Scully suddenly exclaimed. As she pulled her right   
index finger away from the flowers, Mulder realised that she must   
have pricked herself on a thorn on the stem of a red rose which was at   
the centre of the arrangement. More importantly, Mulder noticed   
something that chilled him to his very soul. She was bleeding.   
Bleeding red, *real* blood. Mulder's jaw dropped and he was unable   
to move. The implications of what he'd just seen were too impossible   
and life shattering to even contemplate. But if Scully was indeed real,   
then...  
  
"Oh my god," Mulder muttered under his breath. A sinking feeling   
lodged itself deep in his stomach. He closed his eyes slowly, not   
wanting to accept what he knew in his heart.   
  
Satisfied with the flowers, Scully turned and exited the room.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mulder lay restlessly, his mind constantly replaying the events of the   
day over and over, plaguing him like the pounding sound of heavy   
rain which he couldn't turn off. Sleep was no comfort either. Every   
time sleep came close, he'd jerk awake with the hint of a familiar   
sound or smell, a face or setting he knew all too well flickering through   
his mind. It was unnerving.   
  
Stuck in a kind of nervous alertness and drenched in sweat, Mulder   
clasped his hands in fists at his sides. Eventually, seeing that rest   
would be impossible that night, he instead got out of bed onto still   
wonky legs and walked over to the window. Thrusting the curtains   
aside with a clammy hand and hoisting the window open, he stared   
out blankly into the crisp darkness. Outside, almost all was still, with   
the exception of a few lonely cars streaming along the road far below   
him. From that height, he must have been on at least the fifth floor. A   
cool stream of wind calmly blew into the room, surrounding him, and   
for a moment Mulder's mind was peaceful, void of any conscious   
thought. It didn't last long though, as quickly the never ending cycle of   
images and thoughts returned. Maybe it was all true, maybe he wasn't   
really who he thought he was.   
  
Could it be that his entire life had been nothing more than a figment of   
his imagination??? No, that was just too inconceivable, and   
somehow he knew that was impossible. Defiantly, he shook his head,   
and with it the thought from his mind. The most likely explanation   
would be that this... this... whatever it was, was the illusion. He'd had   
a vivid dream like this once before, in a time when his mind had been   
plagued with the trauma of alien brain activity. He'd awoken from that   
experience, just as he was sure he would from this. He smiled out at   
the city, deciding instantly that that was the most logical explanation.  
  
"Well, old boy, looks like you've got yourself your very own X-file," he   
noted dryly to himself. It never had been quite fair that Scully had   
been mentioned on two occasions in the files and he hadn't. At least   
this was his chance to catch up, if that was any consolation. Mulder   
knew it wasn't, but at least it was a slightly positive thought. That was   
something.   
  
Fox took in a deep lungfull of cool air and let it out slowly. The action   
effectively cleansed himself of negative thought and fear, and he was   
once again able to breathe normally. Yes, this was the illusion. The   
thought seemed finite, and he slowly backed away from the window   
and dropped back down to the bed. Peacefully this time, he   
embraced sleep and the familiar memories of Scully and his world,   
drifting into the world of subconscious.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next day, Scully returned to his bed side. This time, Mulder had   
the conviction of his beliefs, and thus he drew strength from the   
knowledge that this was either a dream or some other form of illusion,   
and was able to carry on a conversation with a curiosity and   
amusement rather than the fear and confusion which had plagued   
their last meeting.  
  
"So, have they announced me officially insane yet or does that come   
later?" Mulder asked with a grin as Scully pulled up a chair beside his   
bed.   
  
Tired and slightly sad eyes fixed on Mulder's face. "I don't think you're   
insane, Fox. You're obviously just suffering amnesia of some   
description."  
  
"Oh, amnesia, eh? Right. Well how do you explain the memories I do   
have, hmmm? As far as I'm concerned, something's gone wrong with   
the rest of the world."  
  
Dana took a deep breath, and continued. "As for what you think you   
remember... well, what I'm thinking is you're remembering some sort   
of powerful dream you had while you were in the coma. What you   
think you know to be true, what you perceive as memories of your   
life... I believe they're merely memories of what ever was going on in   
your mind all this time, products of your subconscious as your body   
regenerated. It's a rare occurrence, but not unheard of."  
  
"Everything that I remember... a powerful dream?! Ha! A whole life   
time's worth of memories in about a year real time. A think it sounds   
like you're stretching there, Scully."  
  
"Well, I mean, there are well documented cases of people waking up   
from comas and remembering events and conversations which never   
transpired..."  
  
"But a whole lifetime?" He sighed and grabbed Scully's hand.   
"Scully, you're a scientist. Always wanting to find the most logical   
explanation. You know Occam's razor, Scully? The scientific   
principal which dictates that, all things being equal, the most logical   
explanation is likely the correct answer? Well I ask you, what's more   
logical here? That I dreamt an entire lifetime of some other life... or   
that I'm just plain nuts?"  
  
"Look, I am a scientist, and yes, logically what I'm saying doesn't   
make much sense. But right now, this seems the only possible   
explanation to me. As for Occam's razor, well, that type of reasoning   
works if all things are equal, just as you said. All things aren't equal,   
Fox. You're not insane, you're able to carry on a normal conversation,   
interact properly with others... you're not insane." Her voice became   
slightly more heated as she continued to talk, gesticulating widely with   
both hands.   
  
There was a long silence. "You know, there's actually a third   
possibility."  
  
"Yeah, and what's that?"  
  
"This could be the dream. After all, this little scenario roughly follows   
the storyline of a Star Trek The Next Generation episode. The Inner   
Light. Terrible episode, the type of thing that imprints itself on your   
brain when you desperately want to put the whole ordeal behind you.   
Picard suddenly finds himself in an unfamiliar world where he   
eventually lives out an entire lifetime - and learns to play this *really*   
annoying flute, - only to find that he's really only been unconscious   
on the bridge for twenty minutes."  
  
Dana considered this silently, unable to come up with a sufficient   
response. "Well I dunno what to tell you, Fox, except that this is real."  
  
"But it would be the most rational explanation, would it not?" Mulder   
added, his eyes flashing with conviction.   
  
"Yes, I suppose it would be," Scully conceded, before continuing, "if it   
were remotely possible."  
  
"Anything's possible, Scully. I think my little theory makes perfect   
sense. I think Edgar Allan Poe said it best, 'dream within a dream'   
and all that."  
  
"Fox, Edgar Allan Poe was talking metaphorically!" Scully exclaimed   
in an exasperated tone.  
  
"But it's what you were suggesting anyway, isn't it? That my   
perception, my reality, is all a figment of my subconscious?"  
  
Scully gave a frustrated chuckle. "This is real! There's nothing more I   
can say to convince you right now! We could debate this all day and   
we still wouldn't get anywhere, because, conceivably, either of us   
could be right!"  
  
Mulder nodded acknowledgingly. "Touche. I guess that's true, to a   
point. Ok, saying, hypothetically, that you're little theory was right.   
That doesn't explain how I included people I'd never actually seen,   
like my doctor for instance, in this little dream of mine now does it???"  
  
"You're right, I can't really explain that. Not that it's ever been   
conclusively proven, but it's long been speculated that people in a   
comatose state can hear what's going on around them. That doesn't   
of course explain the physical image of the people you remember   
seeing.. but," she paused and began to laugh, "maybe it's the first   
evidence that, whilst in a coma, people can actually see as well."  
  
"My very own X-file, eh?" Mulder commented, almost to himself.  
  
"What?" Scully asked.  
  
"I said, I've got my very own X-file here."  
  
Scully stared at him blankly for a moment. "What's an X-file?" she   
asked with genuine curiosity.  
  
That one comment disturbed Mulder more than anything. He opened   
his mouth to answer her, groping for the words. Before he could say   
anything, there was a knock on the door, and Marita Covarubias   
entered the room.  
  
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything, I just need to take Fox's blood   
pressure," she said with a smile as she breezed into the room.   
  
Scully smiled back. "That's ok, I should be going anyway. I need to   
pick Emily up from daycare."  
  
It was Mulder's turn to stare unsurely at Scully. "Emily?" he asked.  
  
"Emily, our daughter." She leant down over Mulder and kissed him   
softly on the cheek. "I'll see you latter. By the way, Fox, you can call   
me Dana." She turned and left the room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
For the next few weeks, Mulder observed the events which   
surrounded him with a sort of detached and almost clinical curiosity.   
Dana eventually brought in Emily to see him, and he had to admit that   
she was an adorable little girl, although there was something   
indefinable that somehow made him uneasy. Physically, she was   
identical to the little girl who Mulder remembered as being Scully's   
daughter, and that made him feel almost scared and panicked.   
  
The same unsettled feeling accompanied most of the events which   
occurred over the weeks, and Mulder was rather at a loss to explain   
them. As he continued to talk to Scully further, he eventually found   
out that, apparently, in this world he was a university lecturer in   
psychology - which, as it turned out, was how Dana and he had met,   
whilst she was lecturing in mecicine. Additionally, he acted part-time   
in an advisory capacity with the FBI, aiding in the creating of   
psychological profiles for criminal suspects. According to the story as   
Dana told it, he had first become involved with the FBI when a former   
student of his had committed a series of murders in the DC area, and   
the violent crimes division had contacted him to seek his assistance in   
bringing the boy to justice. To Mulder, this notion didn't seem to paint   
the American standards for tertiary education in a very positive light,   
but still this event had marked the beginning of an association with the   
FBI, which had eventually lead to Fox becoming more and more   
involved in criminal profiling.   
  
As the days rolled on, Fox was also visited on numerous occasions by   
one of the hospital's resident psychiatrists - one Doctor Diana   
Fowley. Strangely, the woman had claimed to never have met Mulder   
before, which somehow made Mulder feel more than a little shocked   
and confused. Each time she came to his room, Mulder would   
dismiss her attempts at counselling or psycho-analysis abruptly, as it   
appeared he was of the opinion that he by no means required a   
shrink. It became clear to Fowley that Fox was protecting some level   
of self delusion - however, in the interests of keeping her patient   
happy, she eventually took the hint and stopped trying to force Mulder   
to talk to her. Understanding the necessary and inevitable stages on   
the road to acceptance, she decided it would probably be far easier to   
just let Mulder come to the truth in his own time, as she was sure he   
would.  
  
After close to a month, Fox was informed that he could finally return   
home - news at which Mulder felt mixed emotions. When he did first   
step into Dana and his apartment, the surroundings conjured up a   
somewhat familiar feeling, which Mulder found more than a little   
disturbing. However, he soon pushed the feeling from his mind, and   
was once again firmly resigned to the notion that this life was merely   
the illusion, and that he would inevitably return to his old existence.   
  
Not wanting to pressure Fox into moving too fast, Dana suggested to   
him that for the first few weeks he might like to sleep on his own.   
Quite relieved by this idea, Mulder agreed that that would probably be   
the best way, and immediately volunteered to sleep on the sofa. After   
all, he'd mused, he *had* been used to the sofa in his real world. And   
thus, Mulder settled into the apartment quite comfortably.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
About two weeks later, Dana received a phone call. Fox heard her on   
the verge of arguing with someone on the other end of the line, before   
she finally said "I'll ask him," and bid whoever it was farewell.  
  
Moments later, she entered the lounge where Mulder was seated on   
the sofa.  
  
"Ok, Fox, I just got off the phone with your mother." Dana gave an   
exasperated sigh. "Apparently, our families have, together, organised   
some big 'welcome home' party for you tonight. All of our relatives are   
coming here at seven-thirty. Believe me, I had absolutely no idea,   
and I totally understand if you want to just tell them to forget it. I tried   
myself, but your mum was so persistent that I had to tell her I'd ask you   
about it before she cancelled. You know what your mother can be like   
sometimes." She hesitated. "Somehow, I uh... don't think she's going   
to take no for an answer."  
  
Mulder was about to respond, "No, I don't know what my 'mother' can   
be like', but instead remained sill, just staring at the ground.  
  
"Fox?" Dana finally asked.  
  
"It's alright, they can come if they want. I suppose I have to see them   
all at some stage."  
  
He didn't sound very enthusiastic, and Scully frowned worriedly. "Are   
you sure, Fox? 'Cause they really don't need to come, if you don't feel   
up to it." She smiled supportingly, and Mulder felt sick.  
  
"No, that's alright." He gave a small, sad smile, and even though   
Dana knew it was forced, she nodded.  
  
"Alright then." She glanced at her watch. "It's just after six now, I   
suppose we should get ready. They're all bringing food and drink... I   
guess they've had this organised for some time." She shot Fox a   
lingering and supportive look, before turning to leave.  
  
Once she was gone, the smile faded from Mulder's face. 'Oh god,' he   
thought to himself, as his heart began to race. He lay back on the   
couch restlessly. 'Well,' he finally mused, 'I suppose this will be   
interesting, at least.'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
At close to seven thirty, the first of the night's company began to arrive.   
Emily, dressed up in an adorable blue dress which Dana had had to   
force her to wear (it appeared that Emily far preferred her jeans), ran   
excitedly to the door and opened it to greet her guests with a wide and   
enthusiastic grin. Mulder watched from a distance where he was   
standing over to the side of the room.  
  
"Ah, there's my little girl," the familiar female voice began warmly,   
reaching down to scoop up the little blue ball into her arms to hug her.   
She continued into the apartment, Emily perched snugly on the   
woman's hip, her little head nestled on the woman's shoulder. Her   
gaze darted smoothly around the room, until her eyes came into   
contact with Mulder's. They both smiled.  
  
"Mrs Scully," Fox began, silently thanking the forces of the universe for   
sending a familiar yet unthreatening person to their door first. "How   
are you?"  
  
Before she could reply, Dana entered from the bedroom where she   
had been hastily changing her clothes. "Mom, hi," she added with a   
smile.   
  
Shortly after, Scully's brother and his family arrived, and Mulder was   
glad to see that some things remained consistent no matter what   
reality you were in... Bill Scully still had a problem with him, evident in   
his decidedly abrasive tone and facial expressions. Ironically, Bill's   
dislike of him was actually the thing that most made Mulder feel at   
home that night.   
  
Bill's family's arrival was followed suit by Scully's sister, Melissa, who   
Mulder was more than a little surprised to see alive. With her was her   
long-time partner, Alex. Although the temptation was there, Mulder   
managed to refrain from telling them about the little irony in his other   
life in which Alex had killed Melissa in cold blood. It was an   
interesting spectacle, though, as Fox watched Krycek arrive wearing a   
neat suit and tie. Even more amusing to him was when he   
discovered, through casual conversation, that Alex was a lawyer.   
  
Last to arrive were Mulder's parents. He himself answered the knock   
at the apartment door, opening it to reveal his mother standing   
outside. She smiled at him warmly and entered the apartment,   
followed closely behind by Mr Mulder. What Fox saw shocked him, for   
entering the apartment behind her was CSM. Mulder's mind froze   
and his body accompanied it, as he stared in virtual horror at the man   
standing before him.  
  
The man smiled almost shyly, engaging Fox's eye contact. "Hello,   
son," he began tentatively, as if almost afraid of what his son might   
say to him.  
  
Mulder forced a half smile, but other than that it was all he could do to   
stare in shock.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
About 30 minutes into the dinner, Mr Mulder tapped gently on the side   
of his glass to announce a toast. When he had everyone's attention   
he stood, extending his arm and elevating his wine glass in front of   
him. He cleared his throat almost nervously.  
  
"I'd like to propose a toast to Fox Mulder, for a courageous fight back   
from the brink of death to be seated here with us today. And, Fox, I   
know I speak for everyone here when I say that, well, it's great to have   
you back." He smiled warmly, and the rest seated around the table   
began to clap and chatter loudly, as all eyes turned to Fox.  
  
Confronted by the sea of faces, the room began to spin ever so   
slightly, and then faster and faster. The cheerful smiles, the   
cacophony of voices, the nearly twenty eyes all focused on him... Fox   
felt sick, the overwhelming attention of these people he didn't even   
feel he knew was nearly more than he could bear. Movements   
slowed throughout the room for him, and the sound drained away,   
until he could literally hear and feel the pounding of his heart,   
surrounded by an endless row of smiling faces. After a few moments,   
the noise began to crescendo once more. Mulder suddenly found   
himself unable to breathe, taking in shallow and frequent gasps of air.   
His mind whirled, and a single thought clanged around his brain over   
and over. As the room became almost unbearable, Mulder rose   
abruptly from his seat. Each pair of eyes trained on him seemed to   
him to be accusing and questioning all at once. "I'm sorry," he   
mumbled desperately, stumbling as quickly as he could away from the   
table. Racing through the apartment on shaky legs, a tear forming in   
his eye, he grabbed blindly for the doorknob and ran from the   
apartment, not even closing the door behind him, leaving his family to   
stare after him silently.  
  
Mulder continued to run, and it wasn't until he was free from the   
building and racing down the outside street, with the crisp breeze   
flapping at his clothes and biting at his face, that he felt able to breath   
again. He continued to run desperately as if sheer physical distance   
from the family he'd left in the apartment would erase his pain, until   
eventually, as he turned a corner, he collapsed hard on the side walk   
into a crumpled heap, eyes stinging with tears and body shaking.   
Exhausted and drained, he remained like that for a long time, an   
eventual shower of rain falling from the sky as it was split across   
violently by bright flashes of lightning. Mulder raised his head to let   
the droplets pelt down against his face, each new streak of rain   
concealing a matching tear track.   
  
Finally, Mulder peeled himself from the sidewalk, his clothes   
drenched and freezing, and began to walk aimlessly around the city,   
until eventually, long after the rain had dissipated, he came to a   
familiar building somewhere in the outskirts of Washington. He   
smiled weakly at the welcoming glow of Reggie's, and wearily he   
entered the establishment, making his way to the bar and ordering a   
beer.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mulder studied the reflected lights from above the bar as they danced   
on the surface of the cool liquid his glass was half filled with. After   
leaving his own party, Fox had travelled five blocks in hopes he'd find   
a place he wasn't even sure existed. Comfortingly, the place did exist,   
and here he was in the bar he knew so well, sitting alone with a drink.   
He'd sat on that exact stool countless times... or had he? He didn't   
feel he knew anything anymore. He tried to push the unnerving   
thought as far from his mind as he could, as he took a gulp of his   
drink. The surroundings seemed familiar, and that was all that   
mattered to him at that moment.  
  
It was then that he noticed a figure move past him and take up   
residence of the neighbouring bar stool to his left. Slowly, his eyes   
moved from his drink to the stool's occupant. He stared silently into   
her kind, blue eyes, framed with neat strands of golden-red hair. She   
smiled at him, then turned to the bar tender who had moved to their   
position noticing Scully's arrival.  
  
"Can I just have a soda water, thanks."  
  
The bar tender nodded his acknowledgment, retreating to another   
section of the bar to prepare the drink. There was silence for some   
moments between Mulder and Scully.  
  
"How'd you find me?" Mulder finally asked, swirling his glass and   
concentrating his attention on the swishing liquid and the clinking of   
the ice.  
  
"I figured this was where you'd go. You used to come here a lot when   
I first met you... it's a good place to drown one's sorrows."   
  
The bartender returned with Scully's drink and placed in in front of   
her. She took the glass in her hand and sipped slowly from the straw.  
  
"How'd everyone take my sudden departure?"  
  
Scully thought about this for a second, hesitating to find the right   
words. "Everyone was a bit speechless, but I think they understood."   
Her tone was soft and calm, and the soothing tones relaxed Mulder   
almost instantly.   
  
"Do you understand?" he asked after a time with a far away voice. He   
really didn't expect her to, considering that he didn't even really know   
why he'd been effected in the way he had. After all, he was resigned   
to the notion that at any moment he'd wake up in his old world as   
though nothing had happened. It had become harder with each   
passing day to continue to believe in his version of the truth, but he   
still held strong and had never once wavered. It was thus hard for   
Mulder to understand, and he genuinely looked to Dana for some   
enlightenment.  
  
"Yeah, I think I do. It must have been quite overwhelming for you, to   
see all those people who, in one respect, are so familiar... and yet   
also strangers to you at the same time. It must have been   
bewildering." She took another drink before adding in an even softer   
voice, "I'm sorry, Fox."  
  
Mulder looked up in surprise at Scully's last comment. "You... you   
don't have anything to be sorry for."  
  
"Yes I do. I should have foreseen your reaction. Looking back on it   
now, all the signs were there. I shouldn't have put you through that.   
It's just... it's just I thought that all the familiar faces might, you know,   
spark your memory or something. It was selfish in a way, and I'm   
sorry."  
  
"Scully... I mean, Dana, remember it was me who agreed to let them   
all come over. You tried to give me a way out, you have nothing to be   
sorry for."  
  
Dana smiled. "Yeah, well, I still think I should have stopped it."  
  
Silence once again ensued between them, as both sipped slowly at   
their drinks. "Fox, I..." Scully finally started, but again hesitated.  
  
"What?" Fox asked, turning his gaze to her.  
  
"Nothing. I know that nothing I can say is going to make this any   
easier for you. But just remember that I am always here if you need   
me."  
  
Mulder smiled weakly. "I know you are."  
  
Rested on the bar was Mulder's right hand, and Dana reached out   
and grasped it in her own hand. At first, the human contact made   
Mulder jump slightly, but eventually he eased down and allowed her   
hand to gently caress his own, her nimble and delicate fingers   
clasping around the contours of his partially curled fist. They sat there   
like that for some time before returning home, the simple touch of a   
hand communicating what Dana felt otherwise unable to articulate   
with words. To Fox, such an act conjured mixed emotion deep within   
him; he was both calmed by her touch, and at the same time   
frightened. Unfortunately, it seemed to Fox that the fear outweighed   
the comfort.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next day, Mulder took Dana's advice and travelled to the FBI.   
Mulder entered the J. Edgar Hoover building through the main   
entrance; sliding doors fashioned from bullet proof glass. Fox couldn't   
help but wonder sometimes whether the bullet proof glass was really   
there to protect those inside the building, but rather to protect civilians   
walking outside from the wrath of some disgruntled federal employee,   
unsatisfied with their place within the government's chain of comand.   
As he crossed the FBI seal painted impressively under foot, it   
occurred to him how much the room resembled that library from   
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. "X marks the spot," Harrison   
Ford's voice echoed through his mind, and Fox couldn't help but   
smile.   
  
He approached the security entrance with a row of metal detectors   
supervised by visibly bored security personnel. Perhaps, Mulder   
mused as he considered the mundane routine of such a position, it   
was indeed these officers who the bullet-proof glass was in place for.   
Randomly choosing one of the metal detector arches, Mulder moved   
to pass through. As he did so, the man in charge of that particular   
detector glanced up at him absently, and then returned his eyes to a   
book he had been just as absently perusing. A split second later, the   
man's head shot up once more, and a broad smile formed on his face.   
  
"Mulder! You're back!" he exclaimed cheerfully as Fox removed his   
keys from his jacket pocket and handed them to him.  
  
"Uh... I'm sorry, you are?" Mulder responded blankly.  
  
The man's smiled faded slightly as he stared at Mulder, but then his   
eyes flashed with understanding. "Oh, of course, I forgot... yeah, the   
guys told me about your, um, memory inconsistencies. I'm Danny, by   
the way."  
  
'Inconsistencies,' Mulder thought sarcastically, 'that's one way of   
looking at it.'  
  
"Nice to meet you, Danny," Fox responded, and then asked as he   
walked through the metal detector and took back his keys, "The   
guys?"  
  
"The three stooges," Danny laughed, once again regaining his   
cheerful exterior.  
  
'Three stooges....' Mulder thought with more than a minor hint of   
confusion. In an instant his expression changed with understanding.  
  
"You mean... Langley, Frohike, and Byers?" he asked.  
  
Danny nodded with a grin, and Mulder smiled back appreciatively.   
"Thanks Danny, see you around."  
  
"Yeah, see you around Mulder," Danny called after Mulder, adding, "I   
hope your memory gets better."  
  
Mulder turned back around from his position now a few yards away,   
and added quite seriously, "Yeah, me too."   
  
"By the way, have you given any further consideration to joining the   
bureau full time?"  
  
"Full time?" Mulder responded, once again confused.  
  
Danny frowned. "Well, yeah... before your accident, there was talk   
around that you were going to be made a full honourary agent and   
move into our little community full time."  
  
"And... I was considering that?" Mulder asked tentatively.  
  
"Yeah, I think so. Really, Mulder, we'd love to have you around here   
all the time."  
  
"Right then, well, I guess I'll think about it," Mulder replied with an   
indulgent smile after a lingering pause.  
  
Danny smiled back, and both men returned to their business. With his   
back turned and his long strides taking him further and further away,   
Fox added under his breath, "That's a nice thought, Danny, but by the   
time anything like that comes through, I'll be far gone from here and   
back in my real position on the X-Files with Scully."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
After consulting a number of rather misleading floor plan directories   
posted around the corridors of the Hoover Building, Mulder   
miraculously found himself standing outside a door, marked with the   
names John Byers, Melvin Frohike, and Ringo Langley. Standing   
outside, Mulder stared at the names for a long while. He considered   
the irony of the situation, that these three anti-government   
protagonists and conspiracy theorists were now employed within the   
government's jurisdiction at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The   
thought seemed laughable.  
  
The door being half open anyway, Fox gently pushed it the full way in   
and entered tentatively. Inside the room was rather spacious, three   
desks dotted around in a less than geometrical pattern, suggesting   
that these three guys were no doubt exactly how Mulder had   
remembered them - less than conforming to the status quo. Langley,   
casually seated at his desk with his feat rested on his desk top and   
playing some sort of computer game, was the first to notice Mulder   
standing at the door. Nearly doing himself a serious injury due to his   
position by jumping, Langley's eyes instantly widened with surprise.   
  
"Oh my god... Mulder," he began, his words grabbing the attention of   
Byers who himself nearly chocked on his coffee, and Frohike who   
appeared to be having much fun with his paper shredder by absently   
forcing through it pieces of what Mulder hoped were scrap paper; both   
men looked up, startled.   
  
"Mulder!" Byers exclaimed. "We weren't expecting you... I mean, so   
soon." He smiled warmly.  
  
"Not that we're not happy to see ya, buddy," Frohike added, jumping   
up from his desk and moving towards Fox. "How're you holding up?"  
  
"I'm alright, guys." Mulder allowed his eyes to travel around the room,   
observing his surroundings with an air of curiosity. "Actually, I'm not   
really here, I just wanted to see the place... ya know." Noting the   
clutter and mess around the room, it occurred to Mulder how much   
this office actually resembled his and Scully's. He frowned at the   
thought of the X-Files, then added, "Well, to tell you the truth I'm here   
at Dana's urging. She thought it might do me some good."  
  
Byers grinned, "Ah, I can understand that. Dana's been keeping us   
informed as to your condition, by the way."  
  
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, she said she was." There was a long pause   
in the conversation as all four men stared at one another, none of   
them quite knowing what to say. Finally, Mulder broke the silence.   
  
"Right, well, good to see you guys, but I've really got to go." He smiled   
to indulge them, but longed to be back outside of the building in the   
cool breeze.  
  
"Oh, well, Mulder, ok if you have to go." Langley replied with a smile.   
Clearly, he, Byers, and Frohike, were all slightly unsure as to how to   
treat Mulder, and hadn't yet had the opportunity to gage his level of   
remembrance.  
  
"By the way, Mulder, my wife would love for you and Dana to come to   
dinner some time," Byers added.  
  
Fox considered this statement, then asked curiously, "Your wife...   
Susanne, right?"  
  
"Well yeah!" Byers exclaimed, "It looks like your memory might'nt been   
in such a bad shape after all."  
  
"I'm sure that'd be nice, Byers. I'll mention it to Dana." With that, he   
turned to leave, his desire to be on his own overriding what ever part   
of his brain governed his social graces.  
  
He took a step towards the door, but was stopped by Langley's voice.  
  
"You know, Mulder, we never did solve the case we were working on   
when you had your accident."  
  
Mulder stopped dead, and turned apprehensively back to Langley.   
"Oh, and what case was it?"  
  
"Guy named Modell. Killed a string of people, claimed to have some   
form of telekinetic abilities which enabled him to, um... how did he put   
it?" Frohike began, his memory failing him towards the end of his   
story.  
  
Mulder's eyes went wide, and his heart began pounding faster and   
faster. "To 'push' his will on to others," Fox finished, a cold shiver   
running through his body.  
  
Frohike stared at Mulder in surprise. "Yeah, I think that was it. He   
eluded capture, and he's still at large."  
  
Mulder stared at the ground for a moment, his mind racing. He turned   
to leave again, but stopped himself. He faced the Lone Gun Men,   
gaining eye contact with each in turn. "Guys, do you think I could get   
access to some of our old case files?" he asked tentatively, almost   
willing them to say no, fear of what he might find in the files playing on   
his mind.  
  
The guys looked between each other, Byers and Langley shrugging,   
meaning Frohike was left to address Mulder. "Well, yeah, I don't see   
why not." He moved to his desk and retrieved from a draw a set of   
keys, removing one. Handing the key to Mulder, he continued, "You'll   
find them in our second office. It's down in the basement."  
  
Mulder's eyes flashed with something indefinable, and he gave   
Frohike an intense look, to the point where Frohike's own discomfort   
forced him to overt his eyes. "The basement?" he asked in a far away   
voice, small and nervous.   
  
"Well, yeah," Byers added. "I admit, it's not the most fashionable part   
of the Hoover Building, but it suits our needs. Just lock it up once   
you're done down there."  
  
"Yeah, thanks guys." He smiled at each of them in turn, before   
hurriedly leaving the office with the key in hand.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mulder stood outside the basement office, a sort of feverish   
apprehension tingling through his body. Nervously, he placed the key   
Byers had supplied him with in the lock, and after a few jiggles, the   
door gave way. Standing at the threshold of his old office, Mulder   
gasped at the familiar surroundings, and literally had to force himself   
to start breathing again. He entered, making a beeline for the filling   
cabinet which, as far as he remembered, had been burnt to the   
ground. A mental image of his char-grilled office flashed through   
Fox's mind, and a hint of the despair he'd felt at the moment he'd first   
witnessed the ruins of a place he'd once considered more his home   
than his own apartment filled his heart, making him stop sharply as he   
reached the cabinet. Opening the top draw, he grabbed a file at   
random and opened it.  
  
The file documented the investigation into a series of seemingly   
unrelated murders, connected by the gruesome detail of the murder's   
removal of... Mulder stared at the file, his heart racing. His vision   
blurred, and for a long time he stopped breathing; standing transfixed   
as he stared at the words in front of him. 'The removal of the victim's   
liver,' Mulder finished outloud in a small and squeaky voice.  
  
Mulder dropped the file to the ground as if to hold it a moment longer   
would be to poison himself, and desperately he pulled another file   
from the cabinet at random. Opening this one, Mulder was once   
again left shocked, as it told the tale of Donnie Pfaster, a serial killer   
who Fox himself had identified as a fetishist, who had been praying   
on women in the summer of 1995, and taking with him the souvenir of   
the women's hair.   
  
Blindly he pulled yet another file from the cabinet, this one an old one,   
dating back nearly seven years. It documented a case in which a man   
claiming alien influence had abducted a woman from her Washington   
home, and taken her to... Mulder drew his hand to his mouth, a feeling   
of dread and panic running through his veins, and he took in a   
shallow gasp of air.   
  
The man had taken his victim to Skyland Mountain.   
  
Frantically, Fox searched the file for more information, then froze   
when he came to a file photo of the suspect. The man, identified as   
one Duane Eugene Barry, was identical to the man who Mulder   
remembered clearly by the same name.   
  
Stunned, Mulder felt his legs give way below him, and he crumpled to   
the ground. Staring ahead of him at nothingness, Mulder forced   
himself to consider the implications of what he'd just read and seen.   
For the first time, the reality of his situation finally hit Mulder. From   
these cases, his subconscious would have had the raw material   
required to create an elaborate... dream, just like that of his old life.   
There, he'd admitted it. Fox squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to   
believe what he now knew was very easily the truth. It all made sense   
to him now, and he knew that once and for all he would never be   
going back to his old life. Mulder squeezed his eyes closed, in an   
instant feeling completely alone. Until that moment he hadn't let   
himself consider that this indeed could be reality and not his former   
existence, but that now seemed unavoidable. Fox suddenly felt   
helpless; a tear began to roll down his cheek, and he could both hear   
and feel his heart pounding frantically against the wall of his chest.   
Through his panic and fear, the room around him began to close in   
and his surroundings dissolved to black, until Mulder passed out on   
the floor of the basement office, a vessel at the corner of his eye   
breaking and spilling blood down his face and onto the carpet.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
When Mulder regained consciousness, the outside world had already   
long grown dark as the evening had set in hours ago, not that Mulder   
could gage the time by the sun from his place in the basement of the   
FBI J. Edgar Hoover Building. It was still longer before he actually   
moved, lying rigidly on the ground staring at nothing. When he finally   
did move, it was a slow and weary action as he rose to his feet.   
Drained and dazed, he staggered to the door and eventually found   
his way out of the building.   
  
Outside the air was fresh and crisp, lingering remnants of the previous   
night's storm causing a light rain. Clapping thunder continually ripped   
across the sky, as the answering flash of lightning lit up the deserted   
city, and the rain slowly washed away the dried blood and tears from   
Fox's face. Cold and soaked, Mulder stumbled along the pavement, a   
feeling of numbness which had accompanied him since the moment   
he'd opened his eyes in the basement office covering his entire body   
and mind like a thick blanket threatening to smother his soul. Over   
and over in his mind, Fox just kept asking himself 'Why?'. Why had   
the world played such a sick joke on him. Confusion and fear ripped   
through him continuously, as he felt completely and utterly alone. He   
considered how clear the truth had been in retrospect. Everything   
he'd encountered had pointed to the inevitable conclusion of this   
world representing reality. Yet, Mulder knew that, underneath, he'd   
always known the truth, but had just stopped himself from admitting it,   
allowing fear of the reality's implications to control and govern his   
emotions and thoughts to protect his own sanity. He'd known the truth   
right from the beginning, right from the moment Dana had pricked her   
finger on that rose thorn, but he'd allowed himself to wallow in self   
delusion.  
  
Gradually, as Mulder wandered blindly considering the truth, the rain   
pelting down on him making his strides progressively heavier, the fear   
within him turned instead to anger. Water literally poured from the sky   
now, thrusting a literal blanket of rain over Fox's surroundings.   
Stopping abruptly in the middle of the road, clenched fists at either   
side turning his knuckles to white, he whisked his head to face the   
sky, welcoming the heavy downpour which filled his eyes and pelted   
his face like sharp pin pricks. Glaring at the grey clouds gathered   
overhead, the anger and loathing of a lifetime filled his veins.   
Defiantly, he yelled at the heavens and the cosmos with all the fire   
within him.   
  
"Why?!?!?!!" he screamed into the sky, "Why did you do this to   
me?!?!?!!" He stood transfixed, his eyes sharp and penetrating   
through the gloom of the rain swirling around him; the sky's reply an   
ear splitting clap of thunder which seemed to emanate from all   
directions, and a magnificent flash which lit his face brightly, making   
the tracks of his tears plainly visible. Unbridled rage fuming from his   
heart, more and more tears of anger started to roll freely from his eyes,   
as he thought of Scully and the life he would never know again. He   
wept for the world, for the X-Files, and for the truth.  
  
It was early morning before Fox finally staggered home.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
For the following few weeks, Mulder lived his life in a daze, barely   
uttering a word and never leaving the apartment. Most of his time he   
spent sleeping, or in the times when he was unable to sleep, simply   
sat and wallowed in his own deep depression and self pity. He ate   
only the bare minimum to stay alive, finding no pleasure in the act of   
ingestion. Occasionally he would watch television or turn on the   
radio, but even when he did so his attention was distracted.   
  
Dana worried constantly about him. Many times she made attempts at   
conversation, but merely found herself brushed off with a short and   
dismissive reply. She had twice contacted Dr Fowley, the psychiatrist   
at the hospital where Mulder had been staying, and both times was   
reassured that depression was a good sign, as it meant Fox had   
begun to accept the truth. Fowley reiterated that Mulder would   
eventually come through this phase, an inevitable step on the road to   
his own psychological recovery, but that knowledge hardly made the   
act of watching her husband waste away before Dana's very eyes any   
easier. She had been advised to continue attempts to talk to him, but   
Dana found that, rather than coming through depression to inevitable   
acceptance, she saw Fox simply falling deeper into despair - and   
herself with him.   
  
Fox himself was haunted by vivid dreams of his old existence,   
subconscious replayings of old memories more real to him than   
anything else. Most nights he would awake intermittently with a start,   
his clothes soaked with sweat. In amongst these dreams was the   
occasional one of his life with Dana and Emily, which were both   
comforting and frightening to him at the same time.   
  
On one such night Mulder dreamt that he was with Emily at the beach,   
and together they were building a sand castle. The white sand was   
warm underfoot, soft and slippery. They were seated either side of the   
growing structure they were creating with their hands, a tiny rock pool   
their source of water to mould the growing formation. One by one they   
were heaping handfuls of sand on top of each other, sculpting with   
their hands and pressing into the newly flattened sides fragments of   
pearly shell, small rocks, and seaweed. They talked as they built,   
laughing together and playing. Eventually they finished their   
construction, and the two of them stood back and marvelled at their   
masterpiece, staring in awe at their creation, a conglomeration of the   
very sand they walked on and the shells that shone as they caught the   
light, transformed into a castle of wonder. They'd created a moat   
around the castle, and now, as the tide drew further up the beach, the   
castle's surroundings were gently bombarded with a boarder of water,   
deeming the fortress impenetrable. They both smiled at the beauty of   
the structure, before Mulder lifted Emily above his head, the little girl   
squealing excitedly, and they ran together to the ocean's edge and   
played in the shallow waters until the sun was nearly set, it's last rays   
sparkling colourfully and peacefully over the rippling water, casting   
shadows of red, pink, and orange.  
  
Mulder awoke slowly, allowing himself to saver the last remnants of   
his dream. Such a beautiful memory was not to be just discarded. He   
sat up slowly, noting that the time was just after six thirty, and smiled   
as he considered the memory of his day at the beach with his   
daughter. It was a real memory, he knew, and a happy one at that.   
He replayed in his mind sculpting the sand with his hands, almost   
able to feel the fine substance in his fingers. He closed his eyes to   
give the memory full justice, but no sooner had he done so than the   
image in his minds eye changed, a flash of another scene in his   
memory filling his mind. He was building a sand castle with a little   
boy, the same as he had been with Emily, only this wasn't a castle... it   
was a spaceship they were creating.   
  
Mulder's eyes shot open and his smile faded. His memory had been   
of another dream he'd had, what seemed like an eternity ago, a   
symbol of his acceptance of his fate as a tool in fighting the future.   
The glimmer of hope and happiness he'd felt just moments before,   
dissipated just as quickly as it had come. His old depression   
returned, and it remained firmly ingrained in him for some further   
weeks.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Headlights and streetlights flew past, like ghosts emerging from the   
darkness. The steady, soothing movement of the car was enough to   
cure any insomniac, as Fox was finding in the back seat as he rested   
his head against his seatbelt. They had been driving a long time, and   
despite himself, Fox's weary eyes were getting the better of him - or at   
least his eyes. Just as he was on the verge of sleep, the sudden flash   
of headlights bore down on him, emitting blinding light, the type   
abductees describe as they're being elevated aboard an alien space   
craft. There was a screech of brakes, the crunch of metal. The car   
was sent flying.  
  
Next thing Fox knew, he was lying on his back. He opened his eyes   
to see that the car had done a 180¡ flip and was now resting on it's   
roof. Broken glass was everywhere. He cringed at a shooting pain in   
his right leg. He turned his head slightly and noticed the limp body of   
a young girl beside him. His heart skipped a beat. Slowly, tentatively,   
he reached out a hand and touched her. No reaction. In an instant he   
forgot about the pain in his leg. He poked her again, a sudden panic   
engulfing him. He shook her, harder and harder. She still didn't   
move. He desperately shook the limp body, hoping above hope that   
she'd finally respond. But she didn't. Tears began to freely flow down   
his face.  
  
"No! Please!" he cried out. "Samantha!"  
  
Mulder jerked awake, covered in sweat. His eyes desperately darted   
around his and Dana's apartment. He looked below him and realised   
he was lying in the dark on the couch he'd fallen asleep on some time   
before. He lay back, gasping for air, realising everything he'd just   
witnessed had been a dream.   
  
But no, somehow it had been more than a dream, he knew. Mulder   
could actually remember those events. It wasn't a dream, but a   
memory. He'd had a sister, Samantha, in his real life, too. She hadn't   
been abducted by aliens though, she had died in a car crash as a   
young girl. And Mulder had been there. Just like his other world,   
she'd been taken from him in a bright light, and there'd been nothing   
he could do to save her.   
  
Just like Agent Mulder.   
  
He suddenly felt helpless, and he couldn't think properly. His mind   
was a fog, and the more he tried to centre his thoughts, the worse the   
fog became. Sleep was impossible. It was all he could do to lie there.   
Alone in the dark and more lost than ever, his heart cried out through   
the silence, but there was noone to hear it.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A long time passed. Mulder didn't know how long he'd lain there   
alone, consumed by his own personal despair. He was startled when   
the small figure of his little girl emerged from the hallway.   
  
"Daddy?" Emily asked tentatively in a shaky voice.  
  
Mulder stared at the girl for a long time. "Wh-what is it, Emily?" he   
finally asked, just as tentatively.   
  
She took a few steps closer. "I had a bad dream daddy. I'm scared."   
As she got closer, Mulder could see that she was as white as a sheet,   
and covered in sweat, funnily enough, just as he was.  
  
"Don't... don't be scared. It's ok. You just go back to bed, it's ok."  
  
She stood, staring into her father's eyes for some time. "Can I sleep   
here with you, daddy?" she finally asked, her voice still shaking.  
  
That was the question Mulder had been dreading. He wanted more   
than anything to be left alone to his pain and torment. Just him and   
his mind, running round in circles. He was in a dark place, and wasn't   
in the mood to play father to a small child. He seriously thought about   
saying no to her, but then silently scolded himself for even   
considering it. This was his daughter, a young girl who needed him.   
He couldn't just turn away. He mustered a weak smile.   
  
"Sure sweetie, come here."  
  
Her timid, fearful expression turned into a delighted smile as she   
hoped onto the couch next to her father.  
  
" 'night daddy," she said sleepily, and closed her eyes tightly.  
  
Mulder looked at the little girl and stroked her hair. In an instant, his   
sorrow seemed to melt away, like a switch had been flicked in his   
mind. This small child had come to him for comfort, sought him out,   
and somehow that meant more to Mulder than anything else in the   
world at that moment.  
  
For the first time in a long time, he smiled.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
End part 1 


	2. Dreaming Aloud Part 2

Dreaming Aloud pt2  
  
By Jane Goodwin  
  
  
Disclaimer: This is fanfic. No copyright infringement, yadda yadda.   
  
  
  
"In that book which is my memory  
  
On the first page of the chapter  
  
That is the day when I first met you  
  
Appear the words:  
  
Here begins a new life. "  
  
~ Dante Alighieri 'La Vita Nuova'  
  
  
  
"From an endless beach of reality, we take   
a grain of sand and call it the world."  
~ Robert Pirsig  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
For the longest of times, Mulder remained still, staring silently at the   
little girl beside him. He could have stayed like that forever but for a   
nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He felt something he couldn't   
remember feeling since he left his other life. He was compelled to find   
the truth. The truth about his sister. He had to know for sure if that   
dream the night before, as painful as it was for him, was the truth.   
Although this feeling overwhelmed him, something held him back. He   
wanted desperately to hold onto the calm stillness of early morning in   
which he lay with his daughter. A large part of him wanted to hide in   
the shadows, never knowing for sure. Ignorance is bliss, he mused to   
himself. What was it the cigarette smoking man and his cronies said?   
Deny everything? At that moment, it seemed like a pretty sound   
philosophy to him. If he never found out for sure, he could always just   
deny it all to himself. His psychological training told him that was   
unhealthy, but he didn't care. Yet he also wanted closure, as though   
a part of him would never be complete otherwise. He had to know,   
and there was only one way.  
  
Slowly he lifted himself over the back of the couch, careful not to   
disturb Emily's sleep. She stirred slightly but did not wake, much to   
Mulder's relief. He grabbed his coat from the stand next to the door,   
thankful he hadn't bothered to change out of his clothes the night   
before. Just as he was about to leave the apartment, he stopped,   
turning back around to the little girl on the couch. She was still   
sleeping, but it occurred to Mulder how irresponsible it was just   
leaving her on there like that. He walked back over to her and   
bundled the little girl in his arms. As quietly as possible, he carried   
her down the corridor and into her bedroom. He laid her down on the   
bed and pulled her blankets gently around her. As he looked down at   
the small head protruding from under the covers, a broad smile   
engulfed his face. He lent down and kissed her gently. She stirred,   
opening her eyes just a crack.   
  
" 'night daddy," she murmured.   
  
"Goodnight Emily," Mulder replied softly, before turning and making   
his way hurriedly back down the corridor and to the door. Quietly, he   
pulled the door shut behind him and made his way to the elevator.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The house loomed before him, illuminated by the nearly full moon   
above. An echoing splash ensued as the cab pulled abruptly into the   
curb, the overflowing gutter the only remaining evidence of the heavy   
rain of earlier that night. Presently, a mere sprinkle fell on the   
glistening pavement. The light droplets gently pelted the window from   
which Mulder gazed, and he was almost too lost in thought to notice   
the car had stopped. The sight of the neat, old building in front of him   
conjured up a cavalcade of images and memories, long hidden in the   
depths of Mulder's subconscious. He'd actually been quite amazed to   
find he remembered the address, surely a testament to his recovering   
memory. His reminiscing was quickly interrupted by the harsh, gruff   
tones of the cab driver's voice.  
  
"Hey, are you going to be getting out of here already or what?" he   
asked impatiently.  
  
Mulder turned his head slowly toward the driver and, noticing the   
annoyed and weary frown on the man's face, he hurried to regain his   
presence of mind. He couldn't blame him for his attitude, it *was* after   
4 in the morning after all.  
  
"Yeah, of course, sorry. How much do I owe you?"  
  
"Six sixty, thanks."  
  
Mulder fished around in his wallet for the correct change, handed it to   
the driver with a small smile, and exited the vehicle. He stood there   
staring up at the house long after the cab had moved off. An icy shiver   
ran through him, and he automatically pulled the warm protection of   
his coat tighter around his body, even though he knew physical   
coldness had nothing to do with his shivering. With a small sigh, he   
began to ascend the drive.  
  
Reaching the door, his finger hesitated on the small, round button   
momentarily, before pressing squarely on it repeatedly. A long   
moment passed before Mulder saw a light go on inside, and a figure   
in white head towards him, albeit muffled by the frosty, slightly   
translucent glass surrounding the old wooden door. A woman in her   
sixties, bleary-eyed as one would expect from someone who had just   
been startled awake, opened the door and stood staring at him. A   
mixture of shock and expectancy was evident on her face as she   
looked deep into Mulder's alert and vibrant eyes. Mulder smiled   
sheepishly at his mother.  
  
"Fox... do you realise what time it is?"  
  
"It's just after four. I'm sorry to wake you, but this couldn't wait." He   
pushed his way past Mrs Mulder and on into the house. He stopped   
abruptly and turned back to his mother. "Where's... um, dad." He   
stumbled over the last word.   
  
Teena closed the door and then joined her son down the main   
corridor. "His sister, Cassandra, fell ill and he went to be with her.   
You know, she lives in Chicago. Jeffrey called us last night and Chris   
was off first thing this morning."  
  
Mulder pondered his mother's last comment with a mixture of   
amusement and something close to fear. The thought of CSM rushing   
off out of concern to help an ailing family member was laughable, and   
scary at the same time. He remained as unfazed as possible about   
the barrage of familiar names which had accompanied Teena's   
explanation, and instead headed for the kitchen. Once there, he   
quickly took up residence of one of four chairs placed around a   
circular table.  
  
Teena followed, shivering slightly. "I'll, um, put the kettle on. You   
need to warm up. Would you like a herbal tea, Fox?"  
  
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, that'd be nice mom. Thanks."  
  
Mrs Mulder busied herself with finding cups and boiling water as Fox   
sat, ordering his thoughts. It was some time before he finally spoke.  
  
"Mom... how did Samantha die?"  
  
She stopped abruptly. The few, heavy drops of rain outside, each a   
separate and identifiable splash on the pavement, echoed ominously   
in the silence which engulfed the room as Mrs Mulder stared at her   
son. "Samantha, eh?" she responded, diverting her eyes to the mug in   
her hand. She looked up and smiled at her son. "That was a long   
time ago."  
  
"Please mom, I just need to know."  
  
Teena joined Fox at the table, sitting opposite him. Once again, there   
was another long silence. "She was 8 and you were 12 at the time.   
We - you, me, and Samantha - were on our way home from some,   
um, school function or something like that. I can't exactly remember   
the details now."   
  
She shifted in her chair. "It was late, we were in the car, there was,   
um, another car and it just suddenly swerved in front of us. Turned out   
the driver was drunk, the usual way it goes. We collided with it, the car   
flipped, and... well... when I came to in hospital some time later I was   
told that Samantha was dead. That she'd hit her head with the   
impact, or...or... something like that. "   
  
She recounted the last few words as she finally looked up into her   
son's eyes. "She was gone just like that."   
  
Mulder smiled comfortingly at his mother, reaching out his hand to   
grasp hers which was rested on the table. "I know it's not a very   
pleasant topic of conversation, mom. I just had to know. You see, I...   
dreamt about it last night. The night of the crash, I mean. And I just...   
didn't know whether what I was seeing was real or not. Whether I   
could trust my subconscious. But you know, a lot of thing make sense   
now." He looked down suddenly at his lap and moved his hand   
slowly over his face.   
  
"Fox... what's wrong? What is it?" Slowly and sombrely he began to   
recount the events of his sister's abduction in his other life. He told   
her how she had been taken from him when he was 12 and she was   
8, and how he'd been completely powerless to do anything. The   
parallels were all there, set out plainly in his story. The blinding light,   
being unable to move due to something restraining his body, even the   
ages were the same. It was so clear exactly how his subconscious   
had formulated such a scenario. When he'd finished, he looked up at   
Mrs Mulder, who sat silently absorbing what her son had just related   
to her.   
  
"Fox... I think I'm starting to understand how hard this transition has   
been for you. Such strong memories - traumatic memories - of   
another lifetime... I can only imagine just how disconcerting that would   
be for you. Suddenly yanked from one world, complete in it's detail,   
and told it was never real. I really am amazed that you've coped as   
well as you have."   
  
She smiled at him softly, and Mulder smiled back. "I'll, um, get that   
tea." She got up and busied herself once again preparing their   
drinks.  
  
Fox turned around to her, thoughtfully. "Mum, could you tell me more   
about, well, the aftermath of the accident. The effects on the family, I   
mean."  
  
Teena returned with the tea and handed one cup to Fox, who   
acknowledged it with a smile. She sat again, taking a sip from her   
cup.   
  
"It effected all of us terribly, needless to say. But... Chris was the   
worst. Samantha had always been his little girl. They'd been very   
close. I think he blamed himself, in a way. He hadn't made time to   
come that night, and sort of thought that maybe if he had been there,   
then he perhaps might have prevented it. I'm not a psychiatrist and I   
don't pretend to be, but that's what I always thought. It was irrational   
and pointless, but I don't think he ever forgave himself. He became   
distant and reclusive, uncommunicative. It's just he couldn't get over   
it, and he let all of his other relationships suffer for it. Especially with   
you. That was actually the reason for your rift, you know. You always   
felt angry that he let his grief consume him so much that he was never   
there for you. You had a huge blow up about it around 6 years ago -   
on Thanksgiving of all times." She allowed a small, wry smile play   
across her features. "You've barely spoken since."   
  
Mulder listened intently to all his mother had to say, distracted only by   
sips of the warm, soothing liquid in his mug. As she spoke, he   
actually found himself transported back to a time six years before, and   
it had indeed been Thanksgiving, just as Mrs Mulder had recalled.   
Images of CSM and himself, yelled words and heated argument   
flashed in quick succession in his mind's eye. To Fox, it suddenly   
made vivid sense why his subconscious would portray CSM in the   
light it did. In reality they'd had an unhappy and distant relationship -   
all stemming back to Samantha. He recalled out loud to him mother   
how CSM had been the leader of a group of government conspirators,   
and how he'd been involved in the root of Samantha's abduction and   
indeed his life's quest. Teena nodded, once again understanding the   
connections.  
  
"Fox, when you had your accident... well, you don't know how badly   
that effected him. Losing another child in the same way... it was more   
than he could bare. As harsh as this might sound, it actually took your   
crash for him to realise how distant your relationship had been. That   
he'd never reconciled with you, that was terribly hard on him. The   
relief he felt when you woke up... I can't even begin to tell you. He just   
didn't know how to make the first step to mend things in your   
relationship."  
  
Mulder fell silent, his mind whirling. He thought for a long time about   
his mother's words. Finally, he spoke quietly, his voice distant and   
small - almost like a child's. "Mom... when's Dad getting back?"   
  
"Oh, well, he should be back today, I think. Possibly tomorrow, I'm not   
too sure." She glanced at her watch, noticing that the time was close   
to five.  
  
Mulder looked at his own watch and was genuinely shocked at how   
late (or indeed early, depending on one's point of view) it was. "Oh   
my god, Mom, I'm so sorry to keep you talking like this. I shouldn't   
have woken you."   
  
Mrs Mulder placed a reassuring hand on Fox's arm. "Not at all, Fox,   
I'm glad you came. I only hope I've been of some help to you."  
  
He rose from his chair and kissed her gently on the cheek.   
"Thankyou."  
  
"Anyway, I better get going," he said as he reached for his coat which   
was lying on the table. "I can see myself out." He smiled at his mother,   
turned, and left.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Alone in the half light of early morning, as the world made the slow   
transition from night to into day, Fox Mulder walked along the shinning   
pavement. He watched as the streetlights glistened in the sidewalk,   
and listened as the few birds which lived in the city awoke from their   
night's slumber with a rustling and soft chirping. For once he felt   
somewhat at peace with himself and the world stirring around him,   
and soaked up the pleasant feeling for as long as he was able. He   
wasn't quite sure how long he'd been strolling along, only that the city   
was now a much lighter shade of grey than it had been when he'd   
started out on this journey.  
  
He continued to walk on through the city streets, surveying his   
surroundings with an absent eye. His thoughts became slightly more   
grounded as he remembered more specifically his talk with his   
mother. She said a lot, and he was only just now beginning to sift   
through it all. Through all he recalled, his thoughts kept centring on   
all that she'd suggested about his father. He couldn't shake the   
thought of *CSM* actually caring about anyone else other than   
himself. Of course, he continually reminded himself that his father   
wasn't the shady smoking guy he'd known before, but it was still   
utterly difficult to fathom. He sighed, and continued walking.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fox put off visiting his father for over a week, not being quite able to   
summon the will power to make the journey to his parent's house and   
face the risk of rejection. Night after night Mulder's dreams were filled   
with snippets of their fight that Thanksgiving, and as a result he   
thought about nothing much else through most of his waking time, too.   
All day at work (which he had recently returned to) he halfheartedly   
read through files, while all the time playing out different scenarios in   
his mind about what he would say if he indeed gathered the courage   
to go to see his father. After nearly two straight weeks of this   
brooding, he finally felt ready to do it.  
  
However, in the interim, Fox had spent a solid day on his own,   
scouring over old photo albums of his life with Emily and Dana.   
Startlingly to him, Fox had found that, as he stared at each snapshot,   
nearly always an accompanying, vivid scene would play across his   
mind. These rich and clear memories filled his thoughts like scenes   
from a movie, the clarity almost astonishing. But what he remembered   
didn't just end with the photos, but the colour images prompted a   
further array of memories spanning a life time, and Fox allowed   
himself to revel in the wonderful times he'd had, and be swept up in   
events less positive in nature. Still, Mulder was ecstatic to find that he   
had begun to remember much of his life, and these memories served   
to reiterate further the need to patch up old wounds between himself   
and his father. Deciding it was time, he promised himself that the very   
next day he would pay a visit to him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fox knocked tentatively, his hand just discernibly shaking as he lifted   
it. About a minute later, the door opened, revealing Christopher   
George Benjamin Mulder, his face an interesting shade of grey no   
doubt from lack of sleep and years of heavy smoking. Just like him -   
and now it appeared just like his daughter - Mulder's father suffered   
from chronic insomnia. It was a family trait, and Fox had accepted it   
years ago as his inevitable lot in life. Sure, being able to survive on   
little sleep was often an edge, but Mulder often longed to just be able   
to sleep one night, straight through. Perhaps then, he often mused,   
his life might start to make some sense.  
  
"Fox," Mr Mulder observed, half as a question and partly as a plain   
stating of fact.  
  
"Hi Dad," Fox replied with a half smile.  
  
The two men stood, staring at one another silently for nearly 30   
seconds. Finally, CSM seemed to break out of a trance, and turn   
sharply. "Well, uh, come in," he half coughed, his voice gravelly and   
weary. They entered the house and began walking side by side to the   
living room. "If you're looking for your mother, she's out with a friend."   
They stopped, reaching their destination, a comfortable looking room,   
glass windows tiled along one wall allowing a steady stream of   
sunlight in.   
  
Fox turned to his father, and looked directly into his eyes, which in   
colour bore a striking resemblance to his own. "No, actually, Dad... I,   
uh, came to talk to you." As he spoke, he fidgeted nervously with his   
tie.  
  
"Oh?" Chris Mulder asked, surprised.  
  
Mulder looked at his father and swallowed hard. "Ok, Dad, I just... I   
want to say what I'm about to say, and I don't want you to interrupt till   
I'm finished, ok?" CSM nodded in response, and Mulder continued.  
  
"Right, well, ok then." He paused nervously. "Now, um... certain recent   
events in my life have made me start to, um, reevaluate... everything.   
Since the accident, I've thought about our relationship, and I just can't   
help but feel sad, ya know? Somehow we let a wall build up between   
us, and a rift enter our lives, and... well, I've begun to realise that life's   
too short to hold onto that kind of useless, borderline malevolence.   
How did we become so estranged, Dad? We were so close when I   
was kid, when Samantha was..." He stopped mid sentence, frowning   
at the tack he'd ended up taking. This didn't appear to be going too   
well. Never the less, he continued on, plunging into the next thought.   
"I can't really explain this to you, but, uh, since I was in the coma, I feel   
I have a newfound understanding of just what you went through after   
Sam died." Fox gulped back tears as images of Samantha being   
lifted from her bed; Scully's sister lying dead at the hands of his own   
enemies; Deep Throat; Scully lying in a hospital bed comatose, the   
life virtually drained from her by a force he'd brought her into contact   
with, inadvertently or not, all flew through his mind along with   
numerous others. "I understand now the pain and the guilt you must   
have gone through, whether it was founded or not. Well, what I'm   
getting at is, I'm sorry I ever held that against you, and I'm sorry I didn't   
tell you all this years ago." Fox had been avoiding his father's eyes   
throughout his little speech, but finally raised his gaze to meet his.  
  
Chris Mulder turned his head away slightly, his eyes frosty with the   
unshed tears of a lifetime. When he finally spoke, his voice was   
scratchy and choking. "Fox, when you were in the car accident, I   
actually thought I'd never see you again, and never get a chance to   
make things right with you. I've wanted for so many years to   
apologise for never being a good enough father for you. I let my grief   
consume me... and it just about cost me everything else that I held   
dear in this world. You and your mother... I always wished there was   
some way I could have made it up to you."  
  
"We've both made mistakes, Dad, but... I'm willing to move forward, if   
you are," he asked it as a question, but his tone came out as more of a   
plea than anything else. It seemed to Fox at that moment that if he   
could just do this right, then maybe his whole life might start making   
sense. He just knew that he had to make peace with his father.   
  
Mulder's father stared into his face, a single, lonely tear falling from   
his eye. They smiled at each other, and embraced warmly. Mulder   
grinned, as his father began to chuckle lightly. In time, Mulder began   
to chuckle too, and they stood there together, just laughing quite   
contentedly, for a long time.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Later that afternoon, Fox returned home to hear Dana talking on the   
phone. Actually, talking wasn't exactly the word, and Fox couldn't   
help but feel the slightest bit sorry for the person on the other end.  
  
"No goddamn it, you're not listening to me! I have an appointment   
with my daughter's school tomorrow, and I'm asking you - no   
*demanding* - that you reschedule!"  
  
Fox grinned at the little red head of terror, and could only imagine   
what sort of fear she incited in people who didn't know her the way he   
did. Just looking at her back practically made him shiver.  
  
"Well make it happen! I don't care..." Dana, visibly frustrated, allowed   
her voice to soften as she attempted a different tact. "Please, if you'd   
just talk to him. I understand that this appointment has been in place   
for some time now, but I'm only asking to reschedule by a day. A few   
hours, even. I mean, god, how busy can the dean of a University   
be??? And it's semester break, for heavens sakes. Just talk to him..."  
  
Fox frowned at what he heard. Dana had been asked to meet with the   
Dean, as well as various other school officials, to discuss the   
possibility of becoming the head of medicine at Washington Uni, as   
well as being granted an extensive research grant.  
  
"Dana?" Fox asked tentatively.  
  
Not having noticed him in the room until that point, her head shot   
around and she was visibly startled. She stared at Fox, blankly,   
before calmly saying into the phone, "Could you just hold on a   
minute?" Lowering the receiver and holding the microphone with her   
flattened hand, she nodded for him to continue.  
  
Mulder swallowed hard and lowered his eyes to stare at his feet, a   
sight which had become vary familiar to him over the past month or   
so. "Um... I could, uh, take Emily to her school interview."  
  
Dana looked at him for a moment, then asked softly, "You... you sure   
you'd be ok with that? Cos I'm sure I'll be able to change this   
appointment-"  
  
Fox cut her off, bringing his gaze back up to meet hers. "Yeah, I'm   
sure." He smiled. "I'd be happy to."  
  
Dana smiled back appreciatively and proudly, as she knew just how   
large and difficult a step this was for her husband. "That would be   
great. Thankyou."  
  
She lifted the phone back up to her ear. "Um... yeah, I'm here. Right,   
well, there have been some new developments, and I no longer need   
the appointment changed. Thankyou for your time." She hung up the   
phone, and turned back to Fox.  
  
"You're sure about this?" she asked gently.  
  
He nodded. "I'm sure."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next day, Mulder accompanied Emily to school. He felt like a big   
kid himself, sitting on one of those tiny chairs made especially for 1st   
graders, or so it always seemed, and gazing at displays of paper craft   
and cellophane splashed about the rooms to impress visiting parents.   
As Emily played happily with some lego in a tucked away corner of   
the room, Fox sat and talked to her teacher nearby. Mrs Hoover was a   
stout, round, and smiley sort of person - somebody one might   
describe as 'jolly'. Rather severely bobbed, chocolate coloured hair   
swung loosely above her shoulders, and the perpetual smile on her   
face gave her the impression of one of those side-show clowns at a   
fair ground.  
  
"Emily is a wonderful girl," Mrs Hoover was saying. "She's very bright   
you know. Oh yes, possibly the brightest I have this year. She's   
communicative, expressive, has mature reasoning skills." She   
stopped and frowned.  
  
Mulder looked at her cynically. "And I sense a 'but' coming here."  
  
Mrs Hoover smiled at Mulder, not unkindly, but slightly patronising   
none the less. "She just doesn't seem to want to make any real   
friendships. Oh, don't get me wrong, she's very friendly and   
cooperative with the other children, but she just doesn't seem to have   
the desire to make any strong friendships."  
  
Fox thought back to his own first years at school, and sighed. He   
remembered sitting alone most lunchtimes, just... well, thinking.   
Looking back on it now, it did seem rather absurd for a 6 year old boy   
to be sitting and thinking out of his own free will, but that was none the   
less what he'd done. In fact, he didn't remember ever really making   
strong friendships until reaching high school. Yet, he was never an   
unhappy child, and everything he'd done as a kid had been his own   
prerogative. He remembered how all of his teachers had taken his   
voluntary isolation as a sign of loneliness, and recalled with a grin the   
many times they themselves had attempted to intervene and forge   
friendships *for* him.  
  
"Well," Mulder replied, adding a hint of condescension to his voice,   
"I'm sure when Emily feels she wants to make lasting friendships, then   
she will."  
  
"Yes, you're probably right," Mrs Hoover agreed, turning back on the   
over-friendly smile and charm that she'd let slip for just a second.  
  
'Only grade school teachers have that smile,' Fox thought to himself   
wryly, but smiled pleasantly back.  
  
"Anyway, Emily talks about you all the time. I see from her school   
records that you're a teacher of some sort?"  
  
"Psychologist, actually, but not practising. I lecture at Washington Uni,   
and I'm also involved part-time in the FBI's violent crimes division as a   
psychological profiler. Ya know, that's where you delve into the minds   
of serial killers and unstable murderers to uncover their motives and   
the details of their violent killing sprees," he allowed the words to roll   
of his tongue casually and monotonously, as if he was describing his   
work as an accountant.  
  
The teacher's eyes went wide as he completed his personal spiel,   
and Fox grinned inwardly at his still razor-sharp ability to make other's   
speechless. He especially enjoyed this moment, and revelled in Mrs   
Hoover's amazement for a long time as he held her gaze   
unflinchingly. He could almost see her mind ticking over, and hear   
her thinking 'so that's where the girl gets it'.  
  
At that moment, Emily came racing over to them from the other side of   
the room.  
  
"Daddy, Daddy, come see what I've made," she urged excitedly,   
grabbing her father by the hand.  
  
Fox smiled. "Oh course honey, let's see what you made." He allowed   
Emily to escort him across the room, pulling him by the arm, and Mrs   
Hoover followed close behind.  
  
Mulder looked down at Emily's creation of lego, and smiled again.   
  
"It's a flying-saucer," Emily offered, beaming with pride.  
  
Fox beamed himself, pride like he'd never felt before reverberating   
from within him. "So it is!" he replied, "and such a beautiful spaceship   
at that." He continued to beam, and Emily hugged tight to him. He   
hugged her back. "That's my girl," he said, ruffling her hair playfully   
with his hand.   
  
Fox didn't stop smiling for about a week.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
About two weeks later, Scully sat motionless in front of her computer   
screen, except for the rhythmic tapping of her fingers over the   
keyboard as they darted from key to key. As she wrote, almost without   
knowing it, she began to sing softly to herself, as was often the case   
when she was concentrating on work but subconsciously wanting to   
be some place else. Absently, she half spoke the words whilst the   
accompanying tones of light country and pop music filled her head   
like a narcotic. "David Duchovny, why won't you love me? Why won't   
you love me, why won't you love me?" She continued to hum for   
some time, barely noticing the darkening room around her, until finally   
she could scarcely make out the keyboard. That was the moment   
Mulder entered.  
  
Smiling pleasantly, Fox removed his coat and placed it on it's usual   
hook beside the door. "Hey."  
  
"Oh, hey," Scully answered, squinting into the light coming through   
the open door from the hallway outside.  
  
"Whatcha up to?"  
  
"Oh, ya know, the usual. Nothing particularly fascinating. Routine sort   
of work, mind numbing to say the least."  
  
He moved deeper into the apartment, closing the door behind him. It   
was when he banged into the coffee table that the absence of light   
registered in his mind. He looked in surprise at Dana. "How long   
have you been sitting there?!" He groped around on the wall behind   
him until his hand found the switch. Both squinted at the sudden   
luminescence of their surroundings.  
  
"Hmmm?" She asked absently, concentrating once again on her work.  
  
"It's eight thirty you know."  
  
Dana looked up in surprise. "It is?! Wow, I must have lost track of   
time. Last thing I knew it was five." She pushed back on her chair   
and stretched her arms above her, suddenly aware of the stiffness in   
them.   
  
"God, you need to take a break. How's about we go have dinner   
somewhere. We might as well, seeing Emily's spending the night at   
your parents'."  
  
She smiled in agreement, then frowned as she was brought back to   
reality by the glowing screen in front of her. "Oh, look, that'd be great,   
but I can't. This stuff has to be finished by tomorrow."  
  
"Come on, Dana! Live a little! Carpe Diem, live for today." He   
grinned at her playfully. "You need to forget about all that, live in the   
moment!"  
  
Scully grinned back, then replied just as playfully in her best British   
accent: "But Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future!"  
  
Still smiling, Fox eyed her questioningly. "What?"  
  
"I said 'Master Yoda said'..." She trailed off when her words were met   
by uncomprehending eyes. "Episode one..."  
  
Mulder's eyes widened at the mention of the Star Wars prequel, and   
an expression of shock crossed his features. "You mean.... I don't   
believe it! Oh my god, I don't believe it! That's, that's... impossible! I   
completely forgot about the new Star Wars movie! I missed it and I   
didn't even notice!"  
  
"God, that's right! You haven't seen it!" She weighed up the situation   
in her mind momentarily, before closing the lid of her laptop   
decisively. "Come on, it's playing two blocks away. There's bound to   
be a session starting soon." She stood and began to move towards   
the door.  
  
Mulder swung around in surprise. "But I thought you had crucial work   
to do?!" he exclaimed with a grin.  
  
"Carpe diem, Fox! This is far more important! Such earth shattering   
pop culture takes precedence over everything else! No, the work can   
wait. Right now you and I need to be far from here. In a galaxy far, far   
away, if you will." She spoke with her back to Mulder as she swiftly   
moved through the doorway, grabbing her coat as she moved.  
  
Mulder stared after her in bewilderment. Moments later, Dana's head   
reappeared in the open apartment door. "Are you coming or what?"   
she asked, feigning impatience.  
  
Fox furrowed an eyebrow at Scully's impulsive actions, grinned at the   
ridiculous role reversal which had just occurred within the space of   
about thirty seconds, and then moved quickly after her, closing the   
door behind him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"My god, I can't believe I'd completely forgotten about episode 1!!! I've   
been waiting for that for nearly 20 years, and it takes me this long to   
remember it!" Fox and Dana strolled out of the cinema complex and   
began to walk down the street. Together they walked, Fox sporting a   
jubilant and ecstatic grin, while Dana, who could hardly help being   
the slightest bit effected by his contagious excitement, smiled happily.  
  
"Well, was it worth the wait?" Scully asked.  
  
"Oh, definitely! Well... alright, objectively, there were some things   
which could have done with improving." He paused momentarily,   
taking in a deep lung full of the crisp air. "Jar-Jar, for instance." He   
shuddered at the mention of the rabbit/Teletubby hybrid who would no   
doubt fill his nightmares for years to come. It was beyond him what   
George Lucas had been thinking. "And, ok, the whole taxation thing   
was a bit... weak, to say the least." Fox gesticulated widely with his   
arms as he spoke, his bright eyes flashing with excited fever. "And...   
yeah, ok, the characters were somewhat, um..." He frowned, as he   
searched for the right word. "Underdeveloped. If Anakin had said   
'yippie' or 'wizard' one more time I would've killed someone, Darth   
Maul was only there to provide an aggressor for the lightsaber   
scenes, Terrance Stamp was dearly underused. The 'conceived of   
the midichlorians' concept... I mean, what was that, anyway?! That   
came goddamn close to ruining the whole experience for me, I can tell   
ya! And-" He stopped when he noticed an amused grin appearing on   
Scully"s face.  
  
"What?" he asked playfully. Scully began to giggle, an act which lit up   
her face in a way Mulder had rarely ever seen before. He liked it.  
  
Whilst Mulder had been analysing the movie, they'd continued   
walking and were now nearing Reggie's.  
  
"You should hear yourself! Glad to see your cynical streak isn't   
fading."  
  
"Oh, I'm not saying I didn't enjoy myself thoroughly! God, when the   
Lucasfilm logo appeared, and the ol' theme began playing... really,   
Dana I could've cried! Of course I didn't, because you were sitting   
next to me." He grinned. "I wouldn't have wanted to seem like a loser   
or anything."  
  
Dana grinned even wider, but turned her head away from Fox to hide   
the slight embarrassment appearing in her eyes. She certainly wasn't   
about to let Fox know that she, herself, had had the exact same   
reaction upon her first viewing of the movie.   
  
Mulder stopped outside Reggie's. "You want to get a drink or   
something?"  
  
Scully smiled. "Yeah, that'd be nice, Fox."  
  
The two entered and took up residence of a booth located to the right   
of the small bar.   
  
"Ok, I'll go order us some drinks. What'd you like?"  
  
Dana thought momentarily, and then replied simply: "Surprise me."  
  
Fox grinned. "Alrighty then... milk ok with you?" he asked jokingly.  
  
"Sounds wonderful," Scully countered with a wry smile.  
  
Mulder nodded, then made his way over to the bar. Catching the eye   
of the bartender he requested two vodka martinis, before adding:   
"Stirred, not shaken." The bartend simply nodded absently, evidently   
either not getting Mulder's pathetic little joke, or choosing to ignore it.   
Fox sighed, and mumbled melodramatically something about how   
misunderstood he was. "I'll be over there." Fox pointed to the booth   
he'd come from, and the bartend once again nodded his   
comprehension.   
  
As Fox made his way back to Dana, he passed by the establishment's   
jukebox positioned along the wall out of the way. At first, he walked   
straight past barely slowing down, but something Mulder couldn't   
explain made him stop and turn around. He stood in front of the   
brightly lit machine, scouring the display of song titles. As he   
skimmed down the list, one in particular suddenly caught his eye, and   
he took in a quick, shallow gasp in surprise. He stared at the name for   
a long moment. Hesitantly, he looked up at Dana who was still seated   
over the other side of the room, staring at something out of sight to him   
with her trademark furrowed brow. He looked from her to the jukebox   
repeatedly, in two minds about what action to take. Reaching into his   
pocket, he slowly withdrew a quarter. He turned the coin in his hand   
indecisively, before finally placing it firmly in the coin slot and pressing   
hard the number of the familiar tune. Almost instantaneously, the   
strains of soothing piano notes filled the room. Mulder breathed in the   
atmosphere deeply, and walked briskly over to Scully.  
  
"Care to dance?" he asked, reaching his hand out to her.  
  
Dana looked up at him slowly, an expression of astonishment on her   
face. "Well, uh..."  
  
Mulder didn't let her finish, as he grasped her hand and pulled her to   
her feet and towards him in one swift motion. Gently, he placed his   
hands on her shoulders, and Scully curled hers comfortably around   
his waist. The two began to sway in synchronisation to the soft music.  
  
"Put on my blue suede shoes and I boarded the plane.  
Touched down in the land of the delta blues, middle of the pouring   
rain..."  
  
The soulful tones of Cher's powerful yet somewhat haunting style   
echoed around them. They continued to dance, as Dana's face   
formed into a broad smile. As Mulder stared into her eyes, he became   
aware that she'd never looked so much like his old Scully than she   
did at that moment. Amazingly though, for a reason he couldn't quite   
define, he didn't care in the least. Fox smiled back at her.  
  
"When I was walking in Memphis  
I was walking with my feet 10 feet off of Beal.  
Walking in Memphis... but do I really feel the way I feel?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A few days passed. Restlessly, Mulder flipped through the magazine,   
scanning each page briefly before turning to the next. It was late at   
night, close to 4am, and once again Fox was wide awake. Rather   
than lie in the dark restlessly, he'd decided to instead catch up on   
some reading. He wasn't entirely sure when exactly Scientific   
American had entered into the realm of light reading for the middle of   
the night, but enjoyed the intellectual stimulation anyway.   
  
He flipped a page and was faced with a somewhat familiar sight. He   
stared at the words on the page, before breaking into a wide grin. The   
article he had stumbled across bore an almost eerily familiar name.   
'Einstein's twin paradox theory: a new interpretation.' He chuckled,   
and thought briefly about making the trip down the hall to Scully's   
room, but faced with the reality of time decided against that option. He   
instead folded down the corner of the page, and made a mental note   
to show Scully in the morning.  
  
'She'll get a real kick outa this,' he thought to himself, 'someone's   
plagiarising...'   
  
Mulder froze, eyes wide. 'Dana never wrote about Einstein..." He   
gasped, realising the implication of what had just occurred.  
  
In his mind, it would appear he'd somehow fused two of the most   
important people in his life together. If his image of Dana had been   
blurred with his old Scully, then how could he know anything any   
more? Frantically, he considered all that he thought he'd felt for his   
wife... and it occurred to him how close he'd come to replacing Scully   
in his heart. Or perhaps his feelings for Dana weren't even real, and   
he was merely expressing to her what he'd felt for the Scully from his   
other world. Mulder's brow dripped with sweat as a panic surged from   
deep within him; his hands went clammy and cold.   
  
Flashes of James Stewart gazing into the eyes of his long dead lover,   
who had perished because of his inability to deal with his own   
personal demons, played across Mulder's mind. He began to feel ill,   
and not just because of the lurching camera work and swirling,   
psychedelic colours that accompanied the mental scenes. What if all   
he'd been doing all this time was using Dana as a substitute for   
Scully? Oh God, he thought, and squeezed his eyes shut, his heart   
racing.  
  
On the heels of that thought, the image of another Hitchcock character   
appeared in Mulder's head, and he took in a shallow gasp of air at the   
picture of the innocently smiling Anthony Perkins. Was he really that   
far away from Norman Bates, himself? The evil yet tragic villain had   
been governed by his inability to distinguish the past from the present,   
and his imaginary world from reality. Sure, Bates's delusions were   
accentuated by severe mental illness, but, Mulder thought, was he   
himself really that different? After all, he had allowed himself to   
believe in a fantasy world, and now it would appear, his own grasp of   
reality was jaded by his longing for closure in a world that never   
existed. Mulder shuddered as the sharp, high pitched squeal of   
plucked violin notes, that had haunted the psyche of Hitchcock fans   
the world over, resonated through his mind.   
  
His eyes shot open and darted nervously around him. "I need to get   
out of here," he murmured aloud. He considered briefly where to go,   
and a familiar image flashed into his mind. The summer house in   
Quonochontaug. Yes, that was perfect. He jolted up and fetched his   
key to his old family holiday house from a draw where he, in what was   
a complete surprise to him, remembered placing it. Sure enough, it   
was there. Frantically, he grabbed the key, then his coat, and left the   
apartment.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
As the taxi pulled away, Mulder was left standing outside the old,   
deserted house, staring up at the familiar building and surroundings.   
An almost eerie chill ran through him as his mind flashed with images   
of Samantha, and a blur of memories shouted into a crescendo   
through his thoughts. Allowing the memories to flow freely, Fox slowly   
made his way to the front door. Removing the key from his pocket with   
a shaky hand, he placed it in the key hole, and after a jiggle of the   
rusty lock it gave way. A mustiness immediately met Mulder's senses   
- both in smell as well as sight and memory, as though opening a door   
to another time. He stepped inside cautiously, almost scared of what   
he might find within the familiar structure. As he ventured in further,   
he surveyed the plastic covered furniture and manicured cleanness   
that only came with an unlived in space. Fox walked through the   
lounge, noting the completely familiar furniture. Down to the very   
detail, the house had been exactly identical in his other life. Opening   
a cupboard he came across old toys, old articles of clothing, and other   
such items, each associated with a vivid memory. Yet, to Mulder's   
surprise, the memories he found his mind flooded with were not of his   
old life, but of this one. He remembered being in this house with his   
family, playing ball with Samantha and his father, playing cards at the   
kitchen table, adorning a Christmas tree with tinsel and ornaments   
one year, and being lifted up by his father - Chris Mulder - to place a   
gold star atop the mass of green pine.  
  
Wearily, Mulder collapsed on the couch, staring at nothing, and   
instead allowing the pleasant memories to play out in front of him. He   
saw Samantha running before him around the lounge, himself   
chasing her, and the both of them being verbally scolded by their   
mother who could be heard in the near distance from the kitchen.   
  
Fox smiled despite himself. He remembered it all - and all of it was   
from this world, and this life. He sat there for a long time, just thinking   
and reminiscing. What must have been hours later, for now it was   
approaching dusk and the sun had well begun it's descent through   
the marbled sky, Fox was lightly startled by footsteps behind him. He   
knew who it was without her having to say anything. Silence engulfed   
the room for some time, as the figure just stood transfixed a few paces   
away. Eventually, Mulder spoke.  
  
"You know, it's exactly the same. It's just how I remembered it -   
before, I mean."  
  
"It should be, this place was very important to you. It was a symbol of   
your family, and of Samantha."  
  
Mulder exhaled sharply. "Except that both the lamps are intact," he   
added, noting the twin lamps in which Agent Mulder had located an   
alien weapon what seemed like a very long time ago.  
  
Silence once again ensued. "How'd you know where I'd be?" Fox   
eventually asked.  
  
"Oh, it wasn't too hard. I figured this was where you'd go... to think."  
  
Mulder chuckled sadly. "To think," he repeated.  
  
Dana moved around next to Mulder and eased onto the sofa. "And   
have you been thinking?" she asked softly.  
  
Mulder stared at the ground. "Yeah."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"Dana... I just... I can't go back."  
  
Dana grasped Fox's hand, forcing his eyes to hers. "You're right Fox,   
you can't go back. That's the point. You can only move forward."  
  
Mulder gazed into Dana's eyes, but found her intense and supportive   
gaze too hard to bear, and he quickly averted his gaze back to the   
floor.   
  
"But I can't just forget all that I was..."  
  
"I know you can't just forget about your other life, and you won't, but...   
what about what you have here? What about Emily and Me... don't   
you love us?"  
  
Fox turned back to Dana with tears in his eyes. "Of course I do!" he   
half wailed.  
  
"And yet you're willing to give that up because you're haunted by the   
past! Don't you understand, Fox, you can't go backwards, but you can   
move forward."  
  
"I cant. It's too hard!" He broke his hand away from Dana's and   
jumped to his feet, turning away from her.   
  
Dana stood too, placing a hand on Fox's back. "Of course it's hard   
Fox, noone ever said it would be easy. But you're letting the past   
consume you. If you walk away now you're never going to be able to   
live in this world. You'll forever be haunted by demon's from your   
past!" She paused, thinking for a moment, and then spoke with a   
softer and more gentle edge. "Don't you see that you're doing exactly   
what you despised your father for years for? He nearly lost forever   
everything that was important to him, and now you're allowing your   
grief to consume you and ruin your life. You hated your father for it,   
but now here you are, about to go down the same path, and the scary   
thing is that you aren't even aware of it."  
  
Fox considered this for a while, before sharply pulling away from   
Dana's touch. "No!" he yelled weakly, his voice choking through   
tears. "I just... I can't pretend that everything's ok when it's not!"  
  
Scully's tone softened to nearly a whisper as she moved closer to   
Fox. "It'll take time Fox, but if you leave now you'll be turning you're   
back on everything you know... everyone that cares about you."  
  
Fox shook his head. "I just need to sort some stuff out."  
  
"And you think that running away... running from the people who love   
you is the answer?"  
  
"I can't stay! I don't know..." He shook his head fiercely. He began to   
cry freely now, his body convulsing weakly with sobs. "I'm afraid that   
by letting myself go, letting myself love you, that I'm replacing the   
memories of my other life. That I'm turning my back on all that I was. I   
feel that if I allow myself to move forward, I might lose that time   
forever." More tears streamed from his eyes as he spoke. "I'm afraid   
to let myself love you."  
  
Dana finally understood. She grasped his hand firmly. She moved to   
face Fox, observing his face streaked with tear tracks. "Nothing will   
ever replace those memories," she replied firmly, a new found resolve   
in her voice. "And I would never want to. But by letting love into   
you're heart... allowing yourself to feel, you're not denying your past   
but embracing the present." She moved her head until she was   
looking directly into Fox's eyes. "It's alright to let yourself love, Fox."   
She smiled softly, lowering her head against his chest and caressing   
him gently. "It's alright to stop fighting."   
  
They stood together, silently rocking to and fro, for a long time, and   
long after the last tears had dried. Eventually, Fox pulled away   
slightly to look down at Dana. As he did so, he genuinely smiled at   
what he saw. He stared deep into her bright eyes, perfect oceans of   
blue, and no longer did he see Scully... but he saw Dana. He hadn't   
forgotten Scully, she was still in his heart, but he knew he loved Dana   
more than anything at that moment.  
  
His smile turned into a contented grin, and Dana couldn't help but   
smile back. "You're right, Dana, letting love into my heart won't erase   
the past... but it will mould the future." He continued to smile, and the   
two embraced again. "I love you," Fox finally whispered.  
  
"I love you too, Fox, and don't ever forget that."  
  
They both smiled, not that either would have realised the other's   
expression, as they clung to each other desperately and tightly for a   
long time.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They'd returned to DC that night, but Fox hadn't been able to sleep   
once they were home. He was too happy to sleep. Of course, he   
preferred to think of it in cliched terms, something along the lines of   
'his soul was too light to sleep', but however it was defined, sleep had   
been impossible. He'd instead gone out walking around sunrise, and   
a light rain had started up not long after he'd left the apartment   
building. As he walked he thought a lot, and somehow as he strolled,   
as absurd as it may have sounded, he felt he understood the human   
mind. It wasn't quite something he could define, nothing he'd ever   
feel comfortable writing down or communicating to others, but the   
clarity with which he looked upon the world of the subconscious at   
that moment was greater than he'd ever known. 'What is reality?' was   
the question he found himself asking as his mind wandered further.   
The more he'd pondered the idea, the more he began to realise that   
there was no definitive answer. It was just like Obi-Wan had said:   
"Luke, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to in life   
depend greatly on our own point of view." Fox grinned to himself at   
the though of the wise old Jedi. For himself, Fox believed reality was   
whatever you believed at any given moment, and thus he took comfort   
in the thought that this world was no more real than any dream he   
would ever indulge in. After all, he considered his life here no more or   
less real than that of Special Agent Fox Mulder, and his life at the FBI.   
The one who's sister was abducted by aliens, and who seemed   
destined to uncover the fate of humanity.   
  
Fox's mind drifted back to his early days of studying ancient   
philosophy, and recalled the ideas of Plato, and the ideas that so   
many others had suggested in their time. He looked upon them now   
with new meaning. The suggestion that the real world existed only in   
our imagination was as fitting a world philosophy to him as any other.   
In fact, it made a lot of sense. He thought about Scully and The X-  
Files, and smiled. It occurred to him at that moment how lucky he   
actually was. After all, he mused, how many people could claim to   
have been given a second chance at life, a chance to do things right?   
He smiled again, as he thought of his beautiful daughter at home, and   
of Dana. He'd always miss his old life, but he certainly wouldn't want   
to give up what he had now. A part of him still longed for closure with   
his other life, yet he understood now that he could only travel forward.   
And what's more, he wanted to travel forward. 'Don't look back, Fox,'   
he thought to himself. Letting go of the past was a hard task, and he   
still had far to go, but at least he was on the right path. He considered   
the title of a favourite movie of his which seemed to apply. 'After all,'   
he mused with a smile, 'you only live twice.'   
  
Fox continued to walk, as the light rain softly pelted his face. Then,   
acting on an instinct, he stopped and just stood, staring up at the   
clouds, rain caressing his face and streaming down his cheeks. He   
smiled broadly, and tears falling from his own eyes intermixed with the   
raindrops and were washed away. In complete contrast with a similar   
scene in his not-so-distant past, these tears weren't the symptom of   
some gnawing, all consuming fear and torment, but of happiness. He   
stood completely still for a long time, tears rolling down his cheeks   
and his mind almost devoid of conscious thought but for a vague   
awareness of his surroundings. He could have stood there forever,   
content to just be at that moment, if it weren't for the prospect of seeing   
his family at home. Instead, he moved off again after a long while,   
repressing with a laugh the urge to reenact Gene Kelly's street scene   
from 'Singing in the Rain'.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Weeks passed, and slowly Fox was beginning to adapt back to his   
life. He'd moved back into his and Dana's room, and every night   
faced the problem of lulling Emily into at least a light sleep by the time   
the sun rose. It would appear that, like her father, Emily was already   
developing into a chronic insomniac. Mulder only hoped that his   
unfortunate habit wouldn't curse his daughter for life as it had him.   
Fox had also made arrangements to start working full time at the FBI   
as of the next year, and to give up the teaching job with which he had   
never really felt fulfilled - a move he saw as a positive step forward.   
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Fox had found he'd recovered   
virtually all memories of his life pre-Agent Mulder.   
  
Life was finally beginning to even out, and Fox found himself able to   
concentrate more completely on his family and the things important to   
him. There were of course still times when Fox thought of his other   
existence, though, with a slightly mournful mindset.  
  
One night, Fox sat lost in though on the sofa close to midnight as   
Scully joined him.   
  
"Hey," she began.  
  
Mulder looked up and gave a weak smile. Noticing the sad, far away   
look in his eyes, Dana understood immediately what was running   
through his mind. Months had passed since Fox had awoken from his   
coma, and she'd become fairly well attuned to his thoughts and the   
accompanying expressions in that time.  
  
She smiled back. "Ya know, I was just thinking, I'd love to hear all   
about the escapades of Agents Mulder and Scully one day. I bet   
Scully was the real star. Strong willed, sexy, and fiercely intelligent   
no doubt?" Her lips turned up at the corners into a small, supportive   
grin, and her eyes sparkled playfully.  
  
Mulder looked down at the floor and grinned too. "Yeah, I guess you   
could say that."  
  
Scully continued: "I really mean that, Fox, I'd love to know about them.   
I'm always here if you feel you need to talk."  
  
Mulder looked up into Scully's eyes, and was overwhelmed by a   
strange, sentimental feeling. "And I'd love more than anything to tell   
you about them, Dana." He paused. "Basically, think the storyline of   
Star Wars, with myself as Luke Skywalker - a young, naive man   
pulled into a web of intrigue, forced to fight against the odds to save   
the world, discovering to his horror that his father was the leader of the   
dark side. Learning to understand the world through the tutelage of   
some wise old mentors, finding bit by bit that, like it or not, he's the   
centre of the most influential conflict in human history, and the only   
one with the power to prevent the forces of evil from engaging an   
apparently inevitable armageddon. A voyage of discovery of epic   
proportions, and his struggle to fight for what seemed a futile cause...   
to fight the future, if you will." Suddenly realising he was still talking,   
he glanced over at Dana, slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat,   
and she grinned broadly.   
  
"But, uh, I digress." He smiled playfully. "I guess you could say it was   
Star Wars, mixed with... well, mixed with the 'Alien' movies," he added   
with a chuckle, picturing an exploded chest from which a new   
extraterrestrial biological entity had been born, then fell silent.  
  
"You know, the thing is... I'd really love to have known what finally   
happened to them. I mean, to us. Did they find the truth? Did they   
realise their quest and prevent the planed armageddon? Did they   
ever, uh, get it on?" He laughed softly to himself, and once again fixed   
his eyes on the floor. "I know it sounds silly. They *were* only a   
dream..." He trailed off.  
  
"No Fox, I don't think it's stupid. They were so much more than a   
dream to you. For that time, you *were* Special Agent Fox Mulder.   
And their quest was your life."  
  
"But I'll still never know how it all ended."  
  
They sat in silence for a long while. "Maybe you do," she finally said.  
  
Mulder eyed her questioningly. "Maybe I do what?"  
  
"Maybe you do know what happened."  
  
He stared at her blankly. "I-I don't follow."  
  
"Well, they were part of *your* mind. Effectively, your creation. You   
have the power to control their fate, you always did. Look deep inside   
yourself... and I think you'll find your answers."  
  
There was another long silence.   
  
"Ya know Dana, I think you're right. It's all inside me, and it's up to me   
to decide *my* characters' fate. It's all within my power." And   
somehow, he found comfort in that thought.  
  
"Well, it's getting late, we should really get some rest," Scully said,   
elevating herself off the couch and to her feet. "Coming?"  
  
"Yeah, in a little while. There's... um... something I'd like to do first."  
  
She bent down and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Ok, I'll see   
you in a while." With that, she turned and made her way down the hall   
to their bedroom.  
  
After a few moments, Mulder finally got up. He moved slowly over to   
his computer in the corner of the room and booted it up. He chuckled   
slightly, having never quite gotten used to the reality that, unlike his   
counterpart, he was far less adept in keyboard skills. Still, for a four   
finger typer, he was surprisingly fast.  
  
He sat in front of the glowing screen for a long time, staring at nothing   
in particular. Then suddenly, he began to write.  
  
The X-Files  
Chapter 1: A New Beginning  
  
Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully cautiously entered the stuffy,   
poorly lit basement office of one Fox William Mulder. Her eyes slowly   
scanned the room, noting first the general mess, and then the specific   
items which cluttered her surroundings. Paper and photos were   
strewn everywhere, some pinned to walls but others just left to lie   
wherever they had been last examined. She ventured further into the   
room, at which point her eyes were drawn to a crookedly pinned   
poster dominating the wall behind the main desk. It showed a typical   
scene (to those familiar with UFO mythology) of a slightly out of focus   
flying saucer hovering just above the tree line in a clear day sky.   
Printed below the tree line were the words 'I Want To Believe'. Agent   
Scully observed this with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. Finally,   
her eyes came to rest on the back of a man hunched over a light table,   
apparently absorbed in viewing slides.  
  
"Hello?" she called.   
  
Agent Mulder grinned to himself, never once moving his eyes from the   
slides he had been examining.  
  
"Sorry, noone down here but the FBI's most unwanted..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The End  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Dreaming Aloud: Epilogue  
  
  
  
Over a thousand pages and a year later, Fox's 'life story' was nearing   
completion. He'd put it all down: all the memories he treasured, all   
the truths he and Scully had boldly and gallantly sought to bring to   
light, all the dreams that he'd sacrificed, and all the fragile hopes   
which had been trampled again and again in the name of a greater   
good. He'd sat up late night after night, as it was only in darkness he   
found himself able to write the way he did, and had poured his heart   
into the pages, each and every word conveying a thousand bottled   
emotions -- the emotions of a life time.   
  
As Dana had suggested, he had looked to himself and his own   
experiences, journeyed deep into the recesses of a scarred and   
damaged soul, to find the answers and conclusions he'd longed for. It   
was a painful and often frightening process, out of which had resulted   
many nights of lost sleep and draining tears. But at the end of it all,   
Fox had emerged from his written reverie with an overwhelming   
sense of acceptance and closure.   
  
One night in December, he sat awake reading over and over his   
written thoughts, contemplating nothing in particular but his mind   
churning wildly. Finally, he reached a point where his thought   
processes came to an abrupt halt, and his eyes darted upward from   
his screen. As he'd been reading, it had occurred to him that the story   
was much too close to him. He didnÕt feel it was right to sign the name   
of his main character on his work - these were far too private and   
personal experiences. He would prefer a certain sense of anonymity -  
- even if noone ever read his words other than himself.  
  
"Perhaps a nom de plume?" he asked himself aloud. He shrugged.   
Why not. Considering what name to place in the by line, the images   
of the most inspirational and influential men in his life flew through his   
mind. His three work colleagues, or as he'd known them in his other   
existence, the LoneGunMen, were the first to surface, and Mulder   
smiled at the thought of all their names. No matter how much he   
respected his friends, the names Melvin and Ringo were just way too   
goofy, and John was simply...plain. Next, he considered Deep Throat,   
and then realised with a start that he didn't even know his name, so   
dismissed that possibility. Other faces flew by, until finally his mind   
came to rest on the image of his father, Chris Mulder. Fox smiled.   
Besides the fact that he cared deeply for his father now, it would   
convey a certain poetic justice for him to use the name of the story's   
villain. Yes, that was perfect, at least for the first name.   
  
Moving on to surnames, Fox realised with a frown that the surnames   
of everyone he knew had already been used in his story. Turning his   
attention to his TV, which was softly humming in the background, in an   
attempt to clear his head and perhaps find inspiration, Mulder noted a   
typically, over sensationalistic add for E.R. It was complete with the   
cliched heartbeat overlay and dramatic voiceover, as images of   
doctors and patients, each with intense looks, flashed from one to   
another with a stylised, washed out colour pattern for effect. Fox   
couldn't help but grin.  
  
"Can Carter save the life of a..." the voice was saying, dramatic   
emphasis on every word.   
  
'Carter...' Fox thought to himself absently. It did go nicely with Chris,   
he realised, and he'd always liked the name. 'Carter it is.' He   
scrolled to the top of his page, and wrote there: The X-Files, by Chris   
Carter. Who knows, he considered further, maybe eventually he   
would publish his work.   
  
On the heels of that thought, another occurred to him. Perhaps one   
day someone could even turn his life's story into a movie, or a   
series of movies, or maybe even a TV series. He chuckled slightly to   
himself. Although, he might have to do something about the title.  
  
'The X-Files,' he noted with a wry grin. 'Sounds suspiciously like a   
porno flick.' 


End file.
